My sister and I are twins, but we are the extreme opposites of good and evil. She was born with the heart of a saint, treating everyone with kindness, but she was diagnosed with a mild intellectual disability. I have committed countless sins, was clinically diagnosed with the “Warrior Gene” linked to violent psychopathy, and was thrown into juvie for malicious assault. That was, until I found out my sister was being relentlessly bullied by her classmates. They livestreamed her on the Dark Web, letting the audience pay to decide how she would be tortured. The bullies refused to repent. They even bragged that in the next livestream, they would perform a DIY sex-change operation on her. A bullying livestream? I laughed. They didn’t know I was getting out. Because what I do best… is bullying. 1 When I was released from juvie, every single inmate in my cellblock breathed a massive sigh of relief. A fierce storm howled outside the detention center gates. Heavy snow swirled in the air. It wasn’t a good day. The person waiting for me outside wasn’t my sister, as we had promised. It was my mother, her hair completely white. Seeing her again, the usually optimistic, laid-back woman looked like she had aged decades overnight. Her eyes were swollen like walnuts, and she didn’t say a word. She didn’t take me home. Instead, she drove straight to the hospital. Through a layer of thick ICU glass, I saw my sister, her body covered in tubes, lying motionless on a hospital bed. My fist slammed into the glass. My heavy breathing instantly frosted the pane. “What happened?” With trembling hands, my mother held up her phone. Amidst the shrill, chaotic screaming coming from the speakers, my sister’s face—swollen like a water balloon—appeared on the screen. That was when I learned that my sister, who had been putting on a brave face all this time, was being brutally subjected to school bullying. This group of sociopaths wasn’t just bullying her; they recorded videos and livestreamed them on the Dark Web for crypto. In a livestream room titled “Cell 9,” a girl laughed as she used a black Sharpie to draw a turtle on my sister’s face, extending the head obscenely to resemble male genitalia. My sister’s entire face was red and bruised. Her normally bright, doe-like eyes were swollen shut into mere slits. Wherever the Sharpie dragged across her edematous skin, it left deep, humiliating indentations and searing pain. The camera shook. My sister was kneeling on the floor, stripped completely naked, with a dog leash strapped tightly around her neck, restricting her movement. In the video, three girls and one guy were laughing, each louder than the last. The ringleader, a brunette girl, yanked my sister’s hair back. After shaving her head in chaotic, ugly patches, she forced my sister to face the camera. “Be a good pet. Throw a peace sign for the VIP viewers.” A weak, raspy sound squeezed out from my sister’s throat. “You said… there was a stray kitten here that needed help… you lied to me.” Hearing this, the brunette looked up and exchanged incredulous glances with the others, as if saying, Look at this retard! She covered her mouth and snorted, making a fist like a cat paw and tilting her head in mock innocence. “Do I look like a little kitten to you? Meow~” Another burst of maniacal laughter followed. The guy behind the camera was already losing patience. He urged them on. “Why are you wasting time talking to this retard? Let’s get to the good stuff!” My poor sister was violently flipped upside down and pinned to the floor. Humiliated, she was forced to make a peace sign with her legs. The more frantic the bullies’ laughter became, the more donations flooded the chat screen. Once the brunette had her fun, she adjusted her hair, leaned into the lens, and licked her lips. “What do the VIPs want to see next? We can do anything.” Comments flew across the screen. “Have you guys ever done the live eel show? Let’s bring back a classic.” “+10086.” “I’ll fund this. Everyone else, match my donation.” 2 The brunette put on an exaggerated look of regret. “Ah, we couldn’t find the props on such short notice! We’ll do it next stream.” Another comment popped up: “How about golf balls? Three of them! I see a golf club set in the corner.” The brunette looked over her shoulder, clapped her hands, and cheered, “That’s brilliant!” My sister cried out in her hoarse voice, begging for mercy, but her pleas only fueled their sick frenzy. They pinned down my struggling sister like a fish flopping on a chopping block, entirely at their mercy. The deranged howling pierced through the phone speakers. My mother couldn’t bear to watch the rest of the footage, turning her face away. But I stared directly into the lens. I wanted to burn every single one of their faces into my memory. A heavy-set girl pulled a frozen ice pop from a mini-fridge. A cruel smirk stretched across her fleshy face. “Let me numb the pain for you, sweetie, so you don’t keep acting like a bitch in heat.” The next second, agonizing pain caused my sister’s neck to snap backward rigidly. Her entire body convulsed. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she passed out. A blood-soaked golf ball dropped into the frame. The brunette bent over, picked it up, and forcefully pinched my sister’s swollen cheeks. “Weren’t you the kind one? Weren’t you the pretty one? Even Caleb likes you.” “Don’t think I don’t know you’re faking it. Look how much you’re enjoying this. You like it, don’t you?” She tried to violently shove the bloody golf ball into my sister’s mouth, but my sister’s jaw was locked tight in unconsciousness. She ordered the others to pry my sister’s lips apart, then violently smashed the golf ball against my sister’s teeth, like cracking an egg. The mixture of blood and shattered teeth nearly choked my sister to death. Bloody foam sputtered from her throat. The brunette shrieked, “Ew, gross!” and slapped my sister hard across the face. Then, the group burst into laughter again, as if this was the funniest thing in the world. My fists clenched so tightly my knuckles turned white. The violent, bloodthirsty nature I had suppressed for so long surged violently into my brain. “Hazel lost several teeth. Her lower body was severely torn, and they…” Tears streamed down my mother’s face. She choked on her words. “They stapled her together with a heavy-duty stapler. The doctors say she’ll need at least five reconstructive surgeries to barely regain normal function.” “Not only that, they pumped her stomach and found thumbtacks… and… dismembered cat parts.” “Your sister loves cats more than anything!” My mother couldn’t hold it in anymore. She collapsed to the floor, covering her face and weeping bitterly. “What sin did I commit in a past life to deserve this?” “You didn’t call the cops?” I glared at them, the accusation slipping out instantly. My mother cried even harder. “We were going to. But those monsters threatened us. They said they had even more graphic videos. If we called the police, they would release them and ruin Hazel’s life forever.” 3 The combined manipulation of the school and the bullies’ parents was what completely eradicated my last shred of sanity. After weighing their options, my parents had decided to go to the school to demand justice. But the administration played dead. The school leadership claimed that without witnessing it firsthand, the video could be a deepfake. They said they could photoshop ten similar videos if they wanted to. All of this was because the brunette girl’s father sat on the school’s Board of Directors. That scumbag of a man not only refused to admit his daughter was wrong, but he also pointed the finger at my parents. “Maybe you should get your daughter checked to see if her mental retardation has gotten worse. Or maybe check yourselves, since you’re blindly believing a retard’s nonsense. I’m a busy man, unlike you people.” Before leaving, he couldn’t resist a final jab. “Don’t forget, we only let your daughter into this school out of charity for the disabled. You should have some self-awareness and show some gratitude.” Even my sister’s homeroom teacher testified on behalf of the bullies, claiming my sister was two-faced and frequently bullied others. The victim was suddenly crowned the bully, spat on by everyone. Unable to endure it any longer, my dad went to the bullies’ corporate offices to demand justice. Instead, he was dragged into a blind spot with no security cameras and beaten brutally by security guards. He suffered severe lacerations and a fractured right leg, and he is still bedridden at home. The bullies faced absolutely zero consequences, while my family’s world was completely destroyed. I had never heard of such twisted logic in my life. After much deliberation, my mother decided to play me an audio recording. It was from when my dad went to confront that gang of bullies. The bullies were unimaginably arrogant, openly taunting my dad. “If you insist on calling it bullying, well! Then I guess we’re bullies.” “When is she getting out of the hospital? Next time, I’ll give her a free sex-change operation, hahahaha!” The laughter pierced through my mother’s heart. When she looked at me, her eyes were filled with absolute despair. A smile crept onto my lips. “Bullying? Let me tell you… inside juvie, I am the absolute master of bullying.” 4 My name is Harper Hayes. My sister Hazel and I are twins, but we are the absolute extremes of good and evil. When we were little, we saw a diseased, dying puppy on the street. My sister cried, grieving over the puppy’s suffering. I thought about it for a second, grabbed the puppy’s neck, and snapped it in one motion. To me, the fastest way to end suffering was death. But my sister screamed and cried in horror. During deer hunting season at our uncle’s farm, my sister would always pass out crying from the sight of the slaughter. But I was always the main force pinning the deer down. I had more strength than anyone. Watching the blade go in white and come out red, feeling the warm spray of blood hit my face, a deeply addictive sense of satisfaction would always rise in my chest. It wasn’t until we were older that my parents finally noticed my sister’s delayed reactions. They took her for testing, and she was diagnosed with a mild intellectual disability. My parents were heartbroken. They repeatedly instructed me to always look after my sister. I engraved that mission deeply into my heart. But disasters rarely come alone. During the Fourth of July, a bratty neighborhood kid mocked my sister for being a “retard” and intentionally threw lit firecrackers at us. I pinned the kid to the ground, lit a fistful of M80s, and shoved them all directly into his mouth. The blast shattered his un-erupted adult teeth. His parents howled and demanded a million dollars in compensation. My dad made me kneel in the living room to pray to God for forgiveness. He was sick with worry. “Harper, do you know how much you’ve broken his parents’ hearts by doing this?” I thought really hard about how to prevent his parents from being sad. Finally, I came to a conclusion. “Then let’s just kill his parents too. Then they won’t be sad anymore.” My parents’ faces drained of color. They looked at me in sheer terror. They took me in for testing too. The results showed that my body contained the MAOA gene mutation—the “Warrior Gene.” Simply put, I was a born psychopath. I had a genius-level IQ but was extremely violent. I was a natural-born monster, exceptionally skilled at manipulation and disguise. My thought process was completely alien to normal people, and I loved using extreme, permanent methods to solve problems. Just as the doctors predicted, I was a magnet for trouble. When I was nine, a boy in my class mocked me, saying my cold, dead eyes made me look like an anime villain. I tricked him into following me out back, took a brick, and smashed his mouth to an unrecognizable pulp. Then, I ran to the police station crying, saying a boy was chasing me and tripped and smashed his own face. When I was eleven, Uncle Frank refused to pay back a loan he owed my dad for years. At the dinner table, he mocked my dad for being a cheapskate. I waited until he got drunk and stumbled outside to pee. I grabbed a meat cleaver and chopped his hand so deeply it was only hanging on by a flap of skin. Then I ran back to my relatives, crying that Uncle Frank had dirty hands and tried to touch me. Although I became a frequent guest at the juvenile detention center, I never stayed locked up for long. Every time I went in, I just learned new tricks before getting out. That was until I was sixteen, and I finally slipped up. 5 My sister had kindly helped up an old lady who had tripped and fallen on her own. In return, the scamming old hag claimed my sister was the one who pushed her. The old lady lay in a hospital bed, refusing to be discharged, screaming that my sister had paralyzed her. Facing the local news cameras, her wrinkled face was twisted in malicious greed. “I am a God-fearing old woman! I never tell lies!” Her family jumped up and down, fueling the fire. “If you didn’t push her, why did you help her up?” Because of that, I found an opportunity to kidnap the old hag, tied her up, and repeatedly ran her over with an ATV. She got exactly what she asked for. She was permanently paralyzed. This time, I was caught because a security camera caught the act. I couldn’t talk my way out of it. I hate security cameras. Because I was old enough to be tried, I was sentenced to one year and eight months. With good behavior, I only served one year. My “good behavior” was simply because no one inside dared to cross me. I lived very comfortably. The vibration of my sister’s phone pulled me back from my memories. It was a message from those scumbags. “Make sure you show up next semester. We haven’t had enough fun yet.” Fun? We’ll see who’s playing who. With a face devoid of all life, I slowly turned my head and gave my mother a sweet, innocent, somewhat dopey smile. “Do I look like Hazel?” My mother violently flinched. “You do…” I spent the entire winter break doing exactly one thing: compiling data on the bullies. I dug up a class activity video from their social media accounts. In the video, everyone shared their dreams. Watching it now was wildly ironic. The brunette girl stood confidently in front of the camera, speaking eloquently. “My name is Blair Sterling. I want to become a philanthropist, to help people in need so they can have food, warmth, and never suffer again.” Blair lived in an ultra-wealthy gated community. I specifically took a temporary job as a delivery driver in her area to stake out her house. Blair’s dad was a corporate CEO and sat on the school board. Her mom was a high-powered defense attorney. Because her parents were always away on business, they spoiled Blair rotten. She grew into an arrogant, untouchable tyrant, the reigning queen bee of several local high schools. Blair had actually been involved in a scandal before. Just because a girl wore the same dress as her, she and her gang beat and humiliated the teenager in a VIP club room. The girl suffered a mental breakdown and jumped off a building to her death. The incident miraculously vanished from the internet shortly after. The other two girls in her clique: one wanted to be a doctor to save lives. The other wanted to be a teacher to educate the youth. They seemed like Blair’s besties, but they were actually her lackeys and enforcers. They helped her commit atrocities in exchange for scraps of her wealth and influence. The guy was Trent Lawson. He swung his fists in the air, looking like an upright citizen. “My dream is to be a police officer, to punish the bad guys and be an agent of justice.” Trent was a classic trust-fund brat. He used to pursue Blair, but she kept him on the hook like a desperate fish. He did all her dirty work without complaint. For fun, he frequently spread vile rumors about my sister and photoshopped her face onto obituary photos. Is there such a thing as karma in school bullying? 6 Clearly, God doesn’t always have eyes. These bullies usually come from powerful families. They have money and backing. The idea of “karmic justice” is usually just a delusion victims cling to in order to survive. If someone like me didn’t exist, maybe they really would live perfect, happy lives, effortlessly reaching heights that normal people struggle a lifetime for. Too bad for them. Their only dream moving forward is going to be escaping my demonic grasp. The moment I slung my backpack over my shoulder, the eerie smile on my face seamlessly shifted into Hazel’s innocent, dopey expression. Like a wild beast entering the city, society’s red lights meant absolutely nothing to me. School had just started. Everyone was in a good mood. The homeroom teacher, Mrs. Higgins, was at the front directing the students’ morning cleaning duties. Blair and her three lackeys sat by the back door eating sunflower seeds. Their giggling, obnoxious vibe clashed completely with the working students. Blair chewed her bubblegum while pulling a bottle of designer perfume from her bag, spraying it generously into her hair. Trent had a cigarette between his fingers, blowing smoke rings right in front of Mrs. Higgins, who completely ignored him. Gwen Miller, the heavy-set girl, was spitting out sunflower seed shells with a mocking expression. “I wonder if Hazel the Retard is going to show up. If she doesn’t, we’re going to lose a lot of our entertainment.” Blair put down her perfume and rolled her eyes. “Whatever school she transfers to, we’ll just go wait outside their gates and jump her.” Trent flicked his cigarette butt onto the floor, sending a shower of sparks across the linoleum. “Fuck. I didn’t get to have enough fun last time. Next time I’m definitely bringing the live eels. Thick, fat ones.” Right at that moment, I pushed the door open and walked in. Mrs. Higgins, with her hands on her hips, turned around. Seeing it was me, her eyebrows instantly knotted together in fury. “Your parents caused a massive scene and made me lose my entire performance bonus last year! You actually have the nerve to show your face here?” I ignored her, but she wouldn’t shut up. “If your brain is broken, don’t come to school. It’s not like every piece of trash can actually make something of themselves.” “You’re a rat turd ruining the whole pot of soup. Failing students like you should just drop dead.” Blair looked at me with amusement, dragging out her words lazily. “What’s a little performance bonus, Mrs. Higgins? I’ll have my dad promote you to Dean later.” Mrs. Higgins instantly flipped her expression into a spineless, sycophantic grin. “Yes, yes, of course. Please thank the Board Member for me.” I let out a cold sneer. “Oh, so you’re just a lapdog.” The tiny shred of dignity Mrs. Higgins had left shattered into pieces in front of the students. She exploded instantly. “What the hell did you just say?!” She aggressively stomped toward me. Seeing I didn’t back down an inch, she suddenly stopped. “Oh, I forgot. Your broke, desperate dad kneeling at the school gates trying to extort us for money… that looked like a dog begging for scraps!” I cupped my hand around my ear and said breezily, “Listen, classmates. A dog is barking.” Mrs. Higgins lost her mind. “I’ll rip your mouth off!” She lunged at me. The moment her hand reached my face, I grabbed her wrist in an iron grip. I yanked it backward. Snap! The sickening sound of a joint dislocating echoed through the room, accompanied by Mrs. Higgins howling like a slaughtered pig. 7 I cleared my throat and intentionally screamed even louder than her. “Teacher, please don’t pull my ear! It hurts so much!” The noise drew a crowd of students from the hallway. Mrs. Higgins was in agony but couldn’t break free. I executed a swift spin, twisting her dislocated finger into a sickening contortion. “Ahhhh! My finger!” “Ahhhh! My ear!” Mr. Davis, an intern teacher from the classroom next door, rushed in to break up the fight. “Mrs. Higgins, how could you rip a student’s ear like that?” Mrs. Higgins was in so much pain she couldn’t speak. Thick beads of sweat formed on her forehead. I leaned in close to her ear, gloating. “Teacher, you better go get that checked out fast. What if you wait too long and they can’t reattach the finger?” I let go. Mrs. Higgins’s hand trembled violently, her dislocated finger dangling loosely. Terrified to say another word, she let Mr. Davis support her and rushed off toward the hospital. At this point, Blair still hadn’t noticed anything unusual. She just thought the entertainment had returned. She pulled a box cutter from her desk, slid the blade out, and pointed it at me. “Come here.” I slowly walked toward her. Every step made my heart race with excitement, my whole body trembling. But to everyone else in the room, it looked like I was absolutely terrified. Blair grabbed a dirty mop bucket and hocked a loogie directly into the filthy water. Seeing this, her lackeys immediately followed suit. Within seconds, the murky water was coated in a thick layer of yellow phlegm. Blair crossed her arms, casually kicked the bucket toward me, and tilted her head. “Retard. A welcome-back gift. Drink it.” My eyes scanned the room. Every single student in the class was watching the show. Not a single person stepped up to help. Behind Blair sat a boy with dark hair, his head lowered. I heard someone call his name. “Caleb.” That was the guy who got my sister targeted for revenge in the first place. Trent pulled out a cigarette, looking incredibly amused. “Hold on. Light my cigarette first.” I blankly took the lighter from his hand. Everyone watching burst into hysterical laughter. “Look at that dumb look on her face. She really is a retard! Hahahaha!” If the person being humiliated right now was still my sister, she would be in unbearable agony. Too bad for them. I am not my sister. I grabbed the designer perfume off Blair’s desk, pulled off the cap, and poured a mouthful of the alcohol-heavy liquid into my mouth. Under the shocked stares of the crowd, I smiled, flicked the lighter, and blew the mouthful of perfume directly at Blair’s face. The moment the aerosolized perfume hit the flame, it erupted into a roaring fireball, swallowing Blair’s arrogant, domineering face. The stench of burning protein filled the classroom. Blair’s beautiful brunette hair instantly caught fire. She jumped and shrieked in absolute terror, screaming for someone to put it out. Put it out? I love helping my classmates. I grabbed her by her burning hair and slammed her face directly into the desk. Bang! Bang! Bang! Each impact was louder and crisper than the last. The fire went out. She was seeing stars. She clung weakly to the edge of the desk just to keep from collapsing. Let me give her a helping hand. 8 I hooked the handle of the mop bucket with the toe of my shoe, smoothly caught it with my right hand, flipped it upside down, and slammed the entire bucket of phlegm-water directly over Blair’s head. It all happened so incredibly fast and brutally. Forget her little minions not having time to react; even Blair was caught completely off guard. She inhaled sharply in shock, choking on the filthy water and dry-heaving violently. Blair’s delicate skin was clearly going to blister from the burns. She screamed hysterically. “What are you idiots doing?! Beat this dead bitch to death!” The others finally snapped out of it, pulling out their own box cutters. Trent was the first to charge at me. I casually tilted my head, dodging his wild swing. The next second, I was standing behind him, chuckling darkly. “Too slow. Let me show you what fast looks like.” I wrenched his knife-wielding arm backward, slammed it flat onto the desk right beneath a heavy-duty industrial stapler, and slammed my fist down on it. Over and over again. “Ahhhhh! My hand!” Thick metal staples drove deep into the flesh and muscle of his palm, only stopping when the stapler jammed against his bone. Looking at the blood streaming down his hand, I screamed at the top of my lungs, throwing my hands in the air, looking absolutely terrified. “Stop bullying me!” With that, I sprinted frantically toward the classroom door. Those idiots actually thought I was scared and chased after me. I hid behind the heavy wooden door. The moment Riley, the freckle-faced girl, stuck her head out, I slammed the door shut with everything I had. SLAM! A rush of wind followed by the sound of cartilage crunching. Riley’s deformed, twisted face collapsed backward. She squatted on the ground, howling in agony, clutching her head. I delivered a swift soccer kick straight to her face, sending her flying onto her back. Trent pried the door open and limped after me. I turned and sprinted into the girls’ bathroom. Blair screamed excitedly, “She went into the girls’ room! Block the door! She’s dead!” I smiled. They thought they had trapped me. In reality, as I stood in the corner of the tiled bathroom smiling maniacally, it was the predator locking the prey inside the cage. Blair locked the heavy bathroom door from the inside. In pain and seething with hatred, she inspected the forming blisters on her face in the mirror. “It hurts so much. I am going to absolutely end you today.” I backed away slowly as she advanced step by step. She still thought I was my frail, weak sister. She reached out to grab my shirt. But she didn’t realize that the moment I entered her strike zone… she had entered mine. I delivered a devastating, hammer-like cross straight to her face. The entire left side of her pristine face deformed on impact. The fresh blood blisters ruptured, oozing yellow fluid. Only a transparent flap of loose skin was left hanging off her cheek. During New Year’s on the farm, it only took me three punches to knock out a full-grown pig. If I didn’t want to play with her a little longer, she would have been unconscious on the floor already. Blair shrieked in agony, trying to touch the wounds on her face but terrified of the pain. I pulled out my phone, threw an arm around her shoulder, and aimed the camera at her mangled face. “Say cheese.” “Cheese your mom, you psycho!” “Now I’m unhappy.”

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Everyone always said that my sister and I didn’t look like siblings. Luna was beautiful, brilliant, and talented in music and art. She was always top of her class and our parents’ absolute pride and joy. I was the exact opposite. Overweight, slow, and incapable of doing anything right. Whenever my parents looked at me, their eyes were full of disappointment. “If only Stella were even half as perfect as her sister.” Every time that happened, Luna would gently stop our parents from scolding me. She would walk up to me, smiling softly, and offer her encouragement. “Stella, as long as you work hard, I’m sure you can be just as amazing as I am.” When she said that, I never understood the strange, unreadable glint in her eyes. 1 For a long time, I actually believed her. I thought that if I just worked hard enough, I could close the gap between us. So, to improve my grades, I stayed up studying and doing practice tests until 2 AM every night. To look better, I went jogging and jumped rope every day after school, and practically starved myself at dinner. But none of it worked. My grades were still at the bottom of the class. My body only grew heavier. My parents, who used to dote on me, started looking at me with utter despair. “Stella really is a lost cause.” “Sigh… if we only had Luna, our lives would be so much easier right now…” During the holidays, my parents would buy gifts, but only for Luna. When I was younger, I used to foolishly run up to my dad and pull on his sleeve. “Dad, where’s mine? Did you forget me?” My dad would shake my hand off, looking annoyed. “This is a reward for Luna’s excellence. She got first place and won a huge award. What did you do?” When I had a high fever, my parents left me home alone to attend Luna’s parent-teacher conference. Those conferences weren’t even important, but they loved basking in the endless praise the teachers showered on “Luna’s parents.” Even my friends slowly started to hate me. No matter how hard I tried to hold onto them, they would inevitably abandon me to hang out with Luna. Eventually, Luna was the only person in the world who was nice to me. Whenever I felt deeply defeated and wanted to give up, she would always be right there, encouraging me with everything she had. “Maybe you just aren’t working hard enough. Or maybe your methods are wrong,” she would say gently. “Why don’t you try a different approach?” People around us would sigh. “Luna, you’re just too kind. You’re the only person in the world who hasn’t given up on your sister.” “Seriously, if I were a natural-born loser like Stella, I would have killed myself and hoped to respawn with better stats.” “Don’t talk about my sister like that!” Luna would frown and scold them playfully, then grab my hand. “Stella, promise me you’ll never stop trying. Okay?” I would nod forcefully, and Luna would smile. I always thought her smile was beautiful. Until I discovered her secret. 2 It was a quiet night during my senior year of high school when I found out Luna was bound to a “System.” I was hiding out on the balcony when I overheard Luna talking to the System. “Stella is such an idiot. She’s up studying past midnight again, and she’s still going to rank dead last on the next exam. I’m dying laughing. “Looking back, Mom and Dad picked the perfect names. I’m Luna, the moon, and she’s Stella, the star. Stars only exist to make the moon look brighter. “Thank you, System. Thank you for being with me these past twelve years.” It felt like a bomb went off in my head. Suddenly, memories from the past flooded my mind. Twelve years ago, Luna and I were six years old. Back then, I was pretty and smart. In kindergarten, I was the one singing and dancing on stage, and I helped the teacher clean up after class. Luna was lazy. She had no interest in singing, hated practicing dance, and basically learned nothing. When guests came over, everyone would crowd around me, asking me to perform, praising me for being so bright and talented. They would look at Luna, who stood to the side knowing how to do nothing, and say, “Your sister is so amazing, Luna! You need to work hard to catch up!” Maybe that was the exact moment Luna started to hate the concept of “hard work.” When her System appeared, she decisively chose the “The Lazier I Am, The Luckier I Get” trait for herself. And for me, she chose “The Harder I Work, The Unluckier I Get.” And just like that, over the course of the next twelve years, exactly as she wished, the gap between us widened. She put in zero effort but became more and more perfect. I gave everything I had, only to become more and more miserable. … That night, after learning her secret, I quietly slipped away. I sat outside in the freezing night air wearing only a thin sweater for three hours. My body was numb from the cold, but all I could see in my mind was the smile Luna wore every time she encouraged me to “work harder.” When I was little, I never knew what to call that strange glint in her eyes when she smiled at me. Now I knew. It was called pure malice. The sister I trusted the most. The sister who told me to never give up. It turned out she was just using my blood, sweat, and tears as fuel to power her own glamorous, perfect life. She was the main character of this world. And my only function was to stand in the shadows forever, serving as her pathetic background prop. —But I refused to accept that. I was going to change my destiny. … With nothing left to lose, I thought of a plan and sneaked into the school’s broadcasting room. I put my hand on the microphone switch and started chanting in my head. “Calling System. Calling System.” There was no answer. After all, it was Luna’s System, not mine. But I knew that if it was an otherworldly power, it had to be able to monitor my thoughts. “Calling System—it’s fine if you ignore me, but do you see the PA microphone in my hand? I’m assuming your existence is supposed to be a secret, right? Here’s the deal: if you don’t respond in 60 seconds, I’m going to broadcast your existence on a loop to the entire school. Then I’m going to post it all over social media and write letters to scientific research facilities, telling them to come dissect Luna and her little parasitic System…” “60, 59, 58…” I only got to 50 before a burst of static buzzed in my head. Then, a weak, panicked voice spoke up. “…Please don’t do that. No one will believe you anyway.” “How about we find out?” “…What do you want?” “Swap my System with my sister’s.” “I can’t do that. Once my functions are set, they can’t be altered.” I immediately reached to flip the microphone switch. “…Wait! Stop! Have mercy!” the System wailed. “How about this… what if I just do nothing?” “Nothing?” “Right. Even though I can’t alter the functions, I can… malfunction…” I thought about it. That meant, starting today, I would finally get exactly what I worked for. And my sister’s luck from being lazy would vanish. I paused. “Add one more condition.” “What?” “Keep this a secret from my sister. “Let her keep thinking this world is still revolving around her.” 3 The next day, I arrived at school early, just like always. To build up my stamina, I ran two laps around the track every morning. As I jogged slowly around the field, I saw Luna sitting in the bleachers eating breakfast with two of her friends. “Luna, your sister is running again.” “Look at her fat jiggling everywhere when she runs, hahahaha.” Luna replied dismissively, “My sister just has terrible genetics.” Her two friends agreed, their voices filled with envy. “Ugh, I’m so jealous of you, Luna! You eat non-stop all day, chocolates, chips, zero exercise, but you have huge boobs, a tiny waist, long legs, and abs!” “You totally hit the genetic lottery. You just don’t gain weight.” “Why didn’t your sister get those genes? She runs all day and doesn’t lose a pound.” I ignored their mocking and kept running. Starting today, my running wasn’t useless anymore. Unlike before, where I only felt sheer exhaustion, this time I could feel the heat radiating from my forehead and the sweat pouring down my face. My calories were burning. My fat was melting. I was going to get thin. After my run, I grabbed my backpack to head to class. As if remembering something, I turned back and looked up at Luna, who was lounging in the bleachers. “Sister, don’t be late for class.” There was two seconds of silence in the bleachers, followed by a burst of raucous laughter. “Luna, your sister is actually telling you to go to class.” “Even the Dean of Students doesn’t care if you go to class, and she’s trying to boss you around?” “Get lost, loser. You don’t understand the world of geniuses.” It was true. The teachers at our school turned a blind eye to Luna skipping class. The reason was simple: she skipped class, never did homework, never studied, but every time there was a major exam, she always ranked #1 in the entire city. But from now on… she wouldn’t be so lucky. I shrugged and headed to my classroom. I couldn’t wait for first period to begin. The feeling of knowledge actually sticking in my brain was incredible! I soaked up the lessons like a sponge, eager to go home and tackle practice exams. But on my way home, I ran into Luna and the school’s resident golden boy, Caleb Vance. Caleb’s luxury sports car was parked nearby. It looked like he was inviting Luna to a party. When Luna saw me walking by, she immediately stepped forward and grabbed my hand. “I’m not going. I have to walk my sister home.” Caleb was furious. He glared at me. “Stella, did you tell Luna she couldn’t go? “How many more obstacles are you going to throw in our way just because of that stupid marriage contract?” Oh, I almost forgot. This guy—Caleb Vance, the heir to the Vance empire, the guy Luna was secretly obsessed with but pretended not to care about—was technically my fiancé. 4 When I was five, I called 911 when Caleb’s grandfather had a heart attack, saving his life. Out of gratitude, Mr. Vance arranged a childhood marriage pact between me and his grandson. Back then, Caleb treated me really well. He would protect me when other kids bullied me. He would carry me on his back when I scraped my knee. When the other kids teased him, calling us a married couple, he wouldn’t get mad. He even shared his snacks and toys with me, saying very seriously, “Since we’re going to get married, what’s mine is yours.” Later, Caleb moved out of state for school. He only returned when we were in high school. The day I found out he transferred to our school, I ran out excitedly to greet him. That day, Caleb was surrounded by his new, popular friends. When they saw me, they started cheering and teasing, “Hey Caleb, your fiancée is here!” In the past, Caleb would have laughed along with jokes like that. But this time, his face was as cold as ice. He took one look at me and turned his head away in disgust. “Shut up. I barely know her.” After school that day, I locked myself in my room and cried for a long time. Luna, noticing my sadness, immediately ran in to comfort me. “Nobody hates someone who treats them well,” her voice was soothing, almost hypnotic. “If you just try harder to show him you care, I’m sure he’ll be nice to you again.” I believed her. So when Caleb injured himself playing basketball, I brought him a first-aid kit. And what happened next was… Caleb took the entire bottle of red antiseptic and poured it directly over my head in front of everyone. He looked down at me, dripping red liquid, a cruel smirk on his lips. “There’s nothing I hate more in this world than a desperate, clinging loser. “Stella, stop making me sick.” After I ran away crying, I told Luna what happened. She frowned and blamed me. “You just used the wrong approach. You made him mad. I suggest you write him an apology letter.” I didn’t want to write one. So Luna ran to our parents and told them I had offended Caleb and ruined the Vance family alliance. My parents panicked. They forced me to write the letter and hand-deliver it to Caleb. Caleb stood in front of the entire class and read the letter out loud like it was a comedy routine. “What does this even mean, ‘I don’t want to ruin the relationship between our families’? Stella, are you trying to use my grandfather to threaten me? “Newsflash: I’m not afraid of anything.” That day, Caleb went home demanding to cancel the engagement, only backing down after his grandfather beat him with a cane. But his hatred for me only grew deeper. When my parents heard about it, they sighed endlessly. “If only Caleb were engaged to our Luna instead.” Luna played the understanding daughter. “Mom, Dad, I would never steal my sister’s man. I won’t do anything.” And she truly did nothing. But Caleb became addicted to her. “Stella’s sister is so pretty, and she actually has a personality,” he’d say. Caleb started chasing after Luna. The more she ignored him, the more curious he became. The colder she was, the more he felt she was unique. In short, Luna did absolutely nothing, yet effortlessly captured the frantic obsession of the Vance empire’s heir. Everyone said she wasn’t just a natural-born genius, she was a natural-born goddess. It wasn’t until I learned about the System that I finally understood Luna’s strategy. In my relationship with Caleb, the harder I tried, the more my “unlucky” trait made him despise me. And the colder she was, the more she rejected him, her “lucky” trait made Caleb fall deeper into obsession. This way, my engagement to Caleb would inevitably fall apart, and she could step in to marry into the Vance family. Just like right now, as Luna continued to glare coldly at Caleb. “I don’t want to go to your birthday party. And also—stop coming to find me.” With that, she turned to walk away. In the past, this move always worked perfectly for Luna. According to their usual dynamic, Caleb’s obsession would spike. He would block her path, begging her to get in the car until she finally relented with a stoic face, sliding into the passenger seat of his luxury car while basking in the envious stares of every student around them. To give Caleb enough time to stop her, Luna intentionally walked very slowly. And Caleb did speak up. “If you don’t want to go, then don’t.” He scratched his head, sounding irritated. “Always making it seem like I’m begging you. It gets exhausting.” I watched Luna’s footsteps grind to a violent halt. She couldn’t help but look back, staring at Caleb in utter disbelief. Just like how my body wouldn’t instantly become skinny the second the System turned off, Caleb’s feelings for Luna didn’t vanish instantly either. When he saw her abruptly turn around, his foul mood immediately brightened. “See? You actually did want to go. You’re just playing hard to get,” Caleb smirked, pulling open the car door. “Alright, you win. Get in.” If Luna had gotten in the car right then, her relationship with Caleb probably would have continued to progress. But Luna just assumed Caleb’s attitude shift was the System working its magic again. So she let out a cold laugh, putting on her icy-goddess arrogance. “Caleb, I know your family is rich and powerful, and every girl fawns over you. But I’m not like them. Don’t think I’ll fall for you that easily.” With that, Luna turned and walked away. Her face wore a look of absolute certainty. She knew that her rejection would only make Caleb think she was even more special. But actually, if Luna had looked back at that moment, she would have seen that Caleb’s expression wasn’t one of intrigued admiration. On the contrary, his face had turned completely dark. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Caleb scowled and muttered to his friend in the passenger seat: “Who the hell does she think she is?” 5 Unfortunately, Luna, who was already walking away, didn’t hear Caleb’s comment. So she remained happily trapped in her beautiful illusion, convinced everything was going perfectly. Even though the System’s responses had become noticeably vague and evasive lately, she didn’t care at all. She continued skipping her study sessions, continued gorging herself on junk food, and continued watching me study late into the night. She offered her gentle encouragement while that mocking, malicious glint danced in her eyes. She didn’t realize that everything was quietly shifting. Soon, the first major city-wide mock exam arrived. The moment the test papers were handed out, I looked at the questions and felt a surge of hot blood rushing through my chest. I could feel it—every ounce of effort I had ever put in hadn’t been wasted. All those vocabulary words I memorized late at night, all those practice problems I solved… they were all stored perfectly in my brain. The only difference was that previously, due to the System’s interference, the knowledge points were locked behind thick mental walls. I couldn’t connect them. But right now, all those walls were shattered. Everything finally clicked. As I looked at the questions, every single one felt incredibly familiar. I had encountered variations of them thousands of times during those endless nights of studying. Now, they were just presenting themselves in a slightly different format, but they were old friends. This was the true meaning of “hard work paying off.” I breezed through the questions one by one. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Luna, sitting diagonally in front of me, rapidly filling in her scantron bubble sheet. Luna always finished her exams much faster than everyone else. I used to think it was because she was exceptionally brilliant. Only later did I realize it was the “luck” granted to her by the System. Whether it was multiple-choice or fill-in-the-blank, whatever answer she randomly guessed turned out to be right. On essays, she could scribble down absolute nonsense and still get partial credit for her “steps.” With the overwhelming power of the “The Lazier I Am, The Luckier I Get” System, even if she didn’t know half the material, she would still score incredibly high. Clearly, Luna was still taking the test exactly as she always did. Soon, the bell rang, and we handed in our papers. Outside the testing room, everyone gathered in the hallway to compare answers. A crowd formed around Luna. “Goddess! Question 8 on the multiple-choice was so hard. Did you put C or D?” Luna replied casually, “C.” The students who picked C cheered immediately, while the D group groaned in despair. Everyone trusted Luna’s authority. As the undefeated academic queen, her answers were basically gospel. I stood nearby with my backpack and asked quietly, “Why is it C?” Luna paused and looked over at me. She probably couldn’t fathom why a loser who failed the easy questions had the audacity to ask about the hardest one. She said impatiently, “Even if I explained it, you wouldn’t understand.” Luna’s friends immediately chimed in to mock me. “Exactly. The calculation is way too complex. With Stella’s brain, there’s no way she’d get it.” “Focus on getting the basic questions right first. You’re never going to get points on a question like that anyway.” I pressed my lips together and sneered internally. The correct answer was absolutely D. Luna had no idea how to solve it. She had just blindly guessed, fully expecting that, just like before, whatever she wrote down would magically become the right answer. I looked at Luna’s aloof, falsely confident expression, feeling utterly amused. But on the outside, I just took a timid step back. “Oh… I see…” Suddenly, someone behind me gently supported my elbow. It was the class president, Harper Evans. Harper was also a brilliant student. She had tied for first place with Luna once before. With a polite, investigative tone, she asked Luna, “Luna, I calculated it three times and kept getting D. Could you explain why it’s C?” The students who had chosen D immediately perked up, refusing to give up hope. “Yeah, Goddess, walk us through it!” “Even if I got it wrong, I at least want to know why.” Luna’s face turned pale. She couldn’t explain it. Because she just picked C. After a moment of silence, Luna spoke coldly. “I’m tired. When the answer key comes out, read the explanation yourself or ask a teacher. I’m not obligated to tutor you.” With that, she turned and walked away. In the past, Luna had always acted cold and dismissive toward her classmates, but she was still incredibly popular. But this time, Harper frowned first. “I just wanted to ask her a question. Just because she has good grades doesn’t mean she has to be so rude.” Other students whispered in agreement. “Yeah, Harper, your grades are amazing too, and you don’t act arrogant like her.” As they murmured, they started walking toward the cafeteria. I planned to go eat by myself, but out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a bloodstain blooming on the back of Harper’s pants. I hesitated for a second, then hurried over to Harper and quietly whispered to her. … In the restroom, I handed Harper a pad from my bag. “You can tie your school jacket around your waist, and I brought an extra pair of sweatpants. If you don’t mind borrowing them…” My tone was a bit timid. After all, in the past, whenever I tried to help someone, it always backfired. But this time, things seemed different. Harper looked at me deeply, a hint of confusion in her eyes. “Why did I always think you were so hard to get along with?” She scratched her head. “That’s so weird. You’re actually really nice.” Explaining the truth was too complicated, so I just smiled and turned to leave. But Harper called out to me. “Are you heading to the cafeteria too?” I turned back and received my first genuinely friendly smile since starting high school. “Let’s go together.” 6 And just like that, for the first time, I integrated into a friend group. After the exams, the teachers had a grading period. Some classmates organized a BBQ trip to relax, and I went too. When Luna arrived, she saw me sitting next to Harper, laughing and chatting with a group of girls. Her pupils dilated in shock. In the past, I had absolutely zero friends. My isolated, unlikable persona was the perfect foil to highlight her status as the beloved social butterfly. But now, I was roasting chicken wings and drinking Coke with everyone. Where was the outcast she knew? “…Stella.” Luna looked at me, frowning. “Why are you at a BBQ?” Before I could speak, Harper looked up, confused. “This is a class event. Isn’t Stella in our class?” Luna’s expression stiffened, but she quickly smoothed it into a gentle smile. “It’s not that I don’t want her here. You all know Stella’s grades aren’t great. She should be at home studying instead of goofing off here. As her sister, I’m just looking out for her…” Before Luna could finish her sentence, a girl nearby suddenly blurted out, “Hey, Luna, did you gain weight?” The moment she said that, all eyes instantly zeroed in on Luna. It was true. Since the System vanished, Luna had maintained her terrible eating habits, stuffing her face with junk food. Before, everyone wore baggy school uniforms, so it wasn’t obvious. But now, in her normal clothes, everyone could clearly see rolls of fat bulging over her waistband. Luna looked horrified. She didn’t have time to care about my sudden popularity anymore. She stared frantically at her waist. “That’s impossible,” she muttered. “I don’t gain weight. It’s just this shirt…” At the same time, the girl who had spoken up looked over at me. “Wow, Stella actually lost a ton of weight!” Luna’s head snapped up, staring at me in absolute disbelief. It was true. I had lost weight. Running every morning, combined with a disciplined, healthy diet over the past month and a half, had brought about visible changes. With the thick layer of fat gone, my jawline was sharp, my nose looked taller, my eyes seemed larger, and even my double eyelids were much more defined. Whispers broke out around us. “I’ve never noticed how pretty Stella is.” “Well, she and Luna are twins. Luna is the school beauty, so Stella’s genetics can’t be bad.” “I actually think Stella’s facial features are more delicate than Luna’s. If she keeps losing weight, she’ll definitely be prettier than her…” Aside from Luna glaring daggers at me, I felt another burning gaze locked onto me from a different angle. It was Caleb. He was staring at me, utterly mesmerized, his eyes cloudy with emotion. … That day, Luna went home early. As the BBQ was wrapping up, Caleb blocked my path. “Stella…” His voice was tight and raspy. “About what happened before… I’m sorry.” I actually wanted to tell Caleb to get out of my way because I needed to go home and study. But thinking about how Luna obsessed over his photos at home, a wave of pure malice surged in my heart. I gave Caleb a sweet, gentle smile. “It’s okay.” 7 When I got home, Luna was having a mental breakdown screaming at her System. “How is this happening?! Why am I getting fat? Why is Stella getting skinny and making friends?!” Oh. My dear sister. Are you already this devastated just from noticing these little changes? What if you knew that just moments ago, the Caleb you are so deeply obsessed with was no longer disgusted by your “stalker” fiancé? What if you knew he actually asked me out to a movie, and you had to watch him crumble? How hard would you break down then? But I didn’t want Luna to go completely insane just yet. So I waited calmly outside her room until she finished talking to her System. The System sounded terrified and evasive. “There might be some glitches lately. We are currently troubleshooting the issue…” Luna shrieked, “I don’t care about my looks or my popularity right now! My grades are fine, right?!” Actually, the System probably really wanted to tell her: No, your grades are completely screwed. But it remembered the deal it made with me. To avoid being exposed, the poor System had no choice but to lie. “No issues have been detected at this time.” Luna breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. As long as my grades are perfect, I can deal with everything else after graduation.” Soon, the day the mock exam results were announced arrived. Our homeroom teacher walked into the classroom with a bright smile. “The number one student in the city is from our class again.” The entire class turned to look at Luna. She leaned back lazily in her chair, tapping her nails on the desk, waiting to hear her name. “Let’s give a huge round of applause for our top student— “Harper Evans!” Luna froze. Harper’s eyes widened in shock and delight. I sat next to her, clapping wildly. I knew Harper came from a tough background. Her mom had remarried a deadbeat abuser. She wrote freelance articles to pay her own tuition while studying tirelessly. Her success was built entirely on her own blood, sweat, and tears. Every hard-working person deserves a round of applause. “We also have a student in our class who made extraordinary progress this time. That student is—Stella!” Hearing my name, I was slightly stunned. Even though I had a feeling my grades would be good this time, I still didn’t dare to get my hopes up too high. After all, I was so used to being beaten down, used to disappointment, used to getting absolutely nothing in return for my efforts. The teacher looked at me, holding up the ranking sheet. “On this exam, Stella jumped from her usual rank in the 1000s… straight to rank 36 in the entire grade! “What have I always told you? Never give up, never surrender. Hard work creates miracles. “Let’s all give a massive round of applause to Stella for creating a miracle!” The applause was thunderous, even louder than the applause for Harper moments before. Harper laughed, shaking my shoulder. “Hey, hey, why are you crying?” I didn’t want to cry, so I bit my lip hard, but I couldn’t stop my eyes from welling up. Twelve years. The endless cycle of failure and despair was finally over. I had used my own hard work to create a miracle. Amidst the roaring applause, Luna’s lips trembled. She couldn’t believe it. It was impossible. There was no way Stella could score this high. She was supposed to be the “The Harder I Work, The Unluckier I Get” girl! She must have cheated. She turned to look at me, intentionally lowering her voice to a level that sounded quiet, but was actually loud enough for everyone to hear. “Stella, I want you to have good grades too, but only on one condition…” Her lips moved, spitting out eight incredibly malicious words: “That these grades are actually real.” The room instantly went dead silent. Even the teacher at the podium heard her. Her face darkened. “Luna, are you accusing Stella of cheating?” Luna sat in her seat, head bowed, acting like she was torn in an intense moral dilemma before finally looking up at me with tears falling down her face. “Stella, I’m your sister. I can’t just watch you go down the wrong path.” Harper was the first to stand up. “Luna, if you’re calling your sister a cheater, show us the proof. What are you playing at?” Luna sniffled, looking victimized. “The exam was days ago. How could there be any proof left…?” In the back row, a figure suddenly stood up. It was Caleb. “Mrs. Miller,” his deep voice rang out. Everyone thought Caleb was going to defend Luna. After all, it was common knowledge that Luna was the untouchable goddess he pined for, while I was the pathetic, obsessive fiancée he despised. Luna thought so too. She looked at Caleb with tearful, pleading eyes, whispering, “Caleb, I remember the seating chart. You sat right behind my sister. If you saw anything, you can tell the truth.” Caleb glanced at Luna, then looked seriously at the teacher. “Yes. I sat right behind Stella. I didn’t see her cheat at all. If you don’t believe me, we can check the security cameras.” Luna’s eyes bulged in shock. Before she could say anything else, the teacher’s disappointed voice echoed from the podium. “Luna, is there something wrong with you lately? Do you have any idea how far your rank dropped on this exam? Exactly six hundred spots!” CRASH. Luna fell completely out of her chair and onto the floor.

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My husband went to a class reunion, came home, and asked me for a divorce. He saw his first love. She was divorced and struggling. He said that giving her a life of luxury used to be his ultimate dream. Back then, he was broke and unworthy of her. Now, he has the money and the power, and he has to seize the opportunity. 1 I never thought a midlife crisis would hit my husband. To outsiders, David and I were the model couple. We got along perfectly and rarely argued. Aside from mandatory business dinners, David almost never ate out. If he could leave the office on time, he would always come home to have dinner with me and our daughter. On weekends, he would frequently take us on short road trips out of the city. For a successful CEO, compared to those partners who constantly hit up high-end clubs or claimed to be “on business trips” to avoid coming home, David was an objectively good man. He didn’t sleep around, he didn’t gamble, and he didn’t have any extravagant hobbies. Wealthy wives at the country club often used him as the gold standard to lecture their own husbands. To me, David was a devoted husband and a wonderful father. Back when we were dating, we had our fair share of passion and romance. As we got older, that fiery passion slowly faded, settling into a calm, warm, and comfortable life. Even though we didn’t say “I love you” every single day, I knew the feelings hadn’t disappeared. Even now, every morning before leaving for work, David would gently kiss my forehead. After years of marriage, it was a habit he had formed. As a busy executive, he always managed to find the time to attend our daughter Mia’s parent-teacher conferences. He was a family man. He never brought negative energy from work into the house. No matter how stressed he was, he never lost his temper with me or Mia. This was the good man I had spent years patiently shaping and nurturing. I was very satisfied. We had walked hand-in-hand for so many years, and I truly believed we would grow old together. But yesterday, after returning from his class reunion, David acted entirely out of character. He went straight to bed without chatting with me like he usually did. This morning at breakfast, he sat there in complete silence. Just as I was taking a sip of my coffee, he suddenly spoke. “Claire, let’s get a divorce.” I almost choked to death. 2 I didn’t understand. Wasn’t everything perfectly fine? Just a few days ago, we were discussing where to go for our anniversary trip. David even suggested letting his parents take care of Mia for a few days so we could go on a private getaway. “Honey, we haven’t enjoyed just being the two of us in so long,” he had said while holding me. We had finally made it through the storms of life; the rest of our path was supposed to be smooth sailing. We had already crossed the threshold of forty. We were no longer young, impulsive kids. It was just one high school reunion. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. What could make David make such an irrational decision? I put my mug down, stared at him, and froze for a solid minute. “What kind of joke are you playing?” David looked at me solemnly. “Claire, I’m not joking.” I felt a wave of absurdity, but I tried to keep my emotions in check. “Okay. Tell me. What exactly is the reason?” Sitting across from me, David began to slowly explain. His voice was deep and steady, but when he mentioned a specific name, the uncontrollable upward twitch of his lips and the sudden, overwhelming tenderness in his tone proved he wasn’t joking at all. By the time he finished, my emotions were violently churning. I wanted to remain calm and composed, to keep my dignity, but the moisture in my eyes had already betrayed me. When I opened my mouth, my voice cracked. “So, you ran into your first love, she’s divorced, she’s having a hard time, and you want to marry her?” “You don’t understand, Claire. She’s not like you,” David rushed to explain. “She came from money. She was pampered like a princess her whole life. She never knew what hardship was. When she got married, her husband’s family was well-off, but then he got addicted to gambling, blew the family fortune, and racked up massive debts with loan sharks. She finally managed to divorce him, but then her father died in a car crash. She has absolutely no one to rely on anymore. All these years, she’s never worked a day in her life. She literally has no ability to survive on her own.” “You don’t know how much it broke my heart to see her wearing scuffed, peeling heels at the reunion yesterday.” “She’s Evelyn. The princess who used to be the center of the universe. Back in the day, a single pair of her shoes cost more than my living expenses for months.” “She was a girl who had everything, yet she looked past my poverty. We dated from high school through college. Even though we didn’t go to the same university, we were in the same city. She would come to my campus to sit in class with me, eat cheap street food with me, and keep me company while I worked part-time jobs…” I stared at the man pouring his heart out in front of me. “If you loved her so much, why did you break up?” 3 “I couldn’t bear to drag her down,” David smiled bitterly. “She didn’t despise me for being poor, but I despised myself. I had just graduated. I was renting a damp basement apartment for three hundred bucks a month. My future was bleak. I couldn’t give her the life she wanted, and I couldn’t stand watching her suffer with me. I didn’t deserve her. What else could I do but let her go?” I took a deep breath. “And now, you can afford to give her a life of luxury, and you want to lay the world at her feet. What about me? What about Mia?” I hated myself for being so weak. Tears spilled out of my eyes uncontrollably. Over the years, I rarely cried. Seeing my tears, David panicked. He clumsily reached over to wipe them away. “Claire, I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I’m the villain here. I hurt you and our daughter. I’ll leave all the money to you guys. I don’t want a single cent. You and Mia can keep living exactly as you have been—” “So, you are absolutely determined to go through with this divorce, aren’t you?” I sneered. “Evelyn is too fragile. She doesn’t even have a stable job. I’m terrified that if things keep going like this, she won’t survive.” “If she doesn’t have a job, you can help her find one! Why do you have to marry her?” I demanded loudly. “I can’t. I asked her. She won’t accept my help for no reason.” “But if she marries you, she can peacefully and comfortably accept your charity, is that it? Does she not know you’re someone else’s husband? Does she not know destroying someone’s family is shameless? Evelyn… how can she have zero dignity?!” I had never been this fiercely emotional in my life. “Enough! You’ve always been so elegant, reasonable, and gentle. How can you talk about someone else like that? Evelyn didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who wants to marry her. She rejected me; I’m the one insisting on it! I just can’t stand to watch her live in such misery, I—” “You just can’t let her go, can you?” I cut him off. “I am not getting a divorce. This is the marriage I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into building. I am not going to just hand it over and let someone else reap the rewards!” “Just calm down and think about it. Call me when you’ve made up your mind,” David said, grabbing his coat and heading for the door. “I’ll stay at the office for the next few days.” 4 David’s “good husband” persona completely collapsed. He moved Evelyn and her daughter to our city, installing them in a high-end luxury condo under his name. He used his connections to get Evelyn’s daughter into an elite private prep school, the exact same school our daughter, Mia, attended. He even gave Evelyn a position at his company—as his executive assistant. He took Evelyn everywhere: meetings, client visits, business dinners. At one dinner, someone made a harmless joke about Evelyn, and David flipped out on the spot. Everyone was whispering about it. David had caught a late-in-life fire. He was having a midlife crisis disguised as “true love.” When I went to the spa for a facial, I ran into several of the wealthy country-club wives I knew well. They spoke to me with faux concern, acting outraged on my behalf, but they couldn’t hide the schadenfreude dancing in their eyes. For years, David’s flawless “perfect husband” image had made them grit their teeth in jealousy. Who doesn’t harbor a little envy? The world is full of people who secretly hate seeing others do well. And now, I was finally just like them. They were eager to share their “pity.” They crowded around me, bombarding me with advice on how to deal with the “other woman,” how to protect my assets, and how to drag my husband’s heart back home. Leaving the spa, I realized I had actually absorbed some of their words, even entertaining which strategies might work. Once upon a time, I despised women who wasted all their mental energy playing games to keep a man. I used to advise those same wives to find their own passions, telling them that if they stayed busy, they wouldn’t have time to obsess over their husbands. I used to say that a cheating man is permanently stained, and taking him back is just revolting. I never expected that one day, I would become the exact type of woman I loathed. It’s easy to spout platitudes when tragedy hasn’t struck your own life. But when you’re in the trenches, you realize that “letting go” is incredibly hard. This was the family I had painstakingly built, sacrificing everything for. This was the man I had patiently guided and shaped step by step. I truly couldn’t just throw it all away. 5 After so many years of marriage, I knew David’s personality like the back of my hand. He was someone who responded to softness, not aggression. I knew that if I lowered my pride, played the victim, and begged him—relying on our decades of history—I could probably stop the divorce. But I refused to. I physically couldn’t bring myself to beg him after he had already betrayed me. Why should I? I wasn’t the one who made a mistake. And so, we were locked in a stalemate. The harder I pushed back, and the more stubbornly I refused to divorce, the more righteous David felt. His guilt and his softness toward me evaporated entirely. While I was at work, he snuck back into our house and packed up all his clothes. They officially moved in together. He openly flaunted Evelyn everywhere. He left me with absolutely zero dignity. He was dead set on a divorce. My inner stubbornness flared up. I absolutely refused to sign the papers. I wanted to make sure they couldn’t be together legitimately. I wanted Evelyn to wear the label of a mistress forever. 6 Mia’s school had a parent-teacher conference coming up. My firm had a major client visiting that exact day, so I had to be there. Unable to attend the conference, I called David in advance, asking him to clear his schedule so he could go. His assistant answered the phone. The young man spoke respectfully: “Hello, Mrs. Jiang. Mr. Jiang instructed me to tell you that unless it’s about the divorce, he has nothing to discuss with you.” Hanging up, I drove straight to corporate headquarters. The receptionist at the front desk smiled and told me that without an appointment, I couldn’t see the CEO. I told her to book an appointment right now. She smiled and said Mr. Jiang wasn’t in the office, and I should try another day. I told her I was his wife and demanded to wait inside. She kept her fake smile and repeated that anyone seeing the CEO needed an appointment. Leaving the building, I drove to the nearby luxury condo. David and Evelyn’s love nest. Standing at the door, I punched in the passcode. Incorrect password. Driving back home, leaning against the leather seat, I let out a bitter laugh. I never thought the day would come when I wouldn’t be able to reach my own husband. In the past, he always answered my calls on the first ring. He told me that during meetings, he put his phone on Do Not Disturb for everyone—except me. On weekends, during our family outings, anyone who needed him for an emergency had to call my phone to reach him. And now? I remembered what one of the country club wives told me a few days ago. The running joke in their business circle was: If you can’t reach the CEO, just call Secretary Evelyn. She’ll find him. A dull, suffocating ache spread through my chest. I couldn’t figure out how a perfectly good life had unraveled into this unrecognizable mess. When I got home that evening, Mia was already sitting at the dining table eating dinner. Lately, the chauffeur had been picking her up. I told her Daddy was on a business trip. The housekeeper brought me a bowl of rice. Just as I picked up my chopsticks, Mia looked up at me. Her eyes were welling with tears. “Mom, Dad isn’t on a business trip, is he?” While I was scrambling for an excuse, she kept talking. “I saw Dad today. This morning, he dropped a girl off at school, and he picked her up this afternoon. He was with some lady, and he had his arm around her waist. Mom, does Dad not want us anymore? That girl is in sixth grade, just like me. She’s a new transfer student in Class 3. I went to look at her through the window. She isn’t even as cute as me. Is Dad going to be her dad now? Does he not love me anymore?” Looking at my heartbroken daughter, I couldn’t bear to tell her the truth. “Dad is just temporarily helping a friend take care of her kid. He’ll come home soon.” 7 In the middle of the night, Mia spiked a high fever. I carried her to the car and told the driver to rush to the ER. In the backseat, delirious with fever, Mia kept calling for her dad. “Mom, Dad will come, right?” she asked, clutching my arm. “Before, whenever I got sick, Dad would stay by my bed the whole time. I took a really cold shower and got super sick. Dad will definitely come see me, right?” My arm stiffened as I hugged her. “Mia, did you make yourself sick on purpose?” Mia whispered, “Yeah. I used the shower to get soaking wet, and I didn’t dry off. I knew it would work. I haven’t seen Dad in so long. I just wanted to see him.” I hugged her tight, tears streaming down my face. “You foolish girl, why would you do something so stupid?” “Mom, call Dad quickly. Tell him I’m sick.” But Mia was left disappointed. I called him over and over again, but no one ever answered. By the time her IV drip finished, it was already the next morning. Looking at Mia sleeping in the hospital bed, I felt her forehead. It was still a little warm, so I called her homeroom teacher to excuse her for the day. When Mia woke up around 10 AM, I bought her some oatmeal and we left the hospital. As we were walking down a long corridor, Mia suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, staring blankly ahead. Following her gaze, I saw a “happy family of three” not far away. David and a woman were coaxing a little girl. The girl looked about eleven or twelve, roughly Mia’s age. “Sweetheart, didn’t you say your stomach hurt? Let’s be good and go see the doctor, okay?” The woman’s voice was incredibly gentle. This was the first time I had ever seen Evelyn. To be honest, I was a little disappointed. She looked very thin and fragile, but she definitely wasn’t beautiful. Her complexion was sallow, and there was a heavy exhaustion around her eyes. It was obvious that these past few years had been very hard on her. I couldn’t understand how I was losing to a woman like this. From looks to ability to talent, I was confident she couldn’t beat me in a single category. It seems the power of a “first love” is truly terrifying. Even without her youthful beauty, Evelyn still had David wrapped around her finger. 8 “Mom, I lied. My stomach doesn’t hurt. I just didn’t want to go to P.E. class,” the little girl glared at Evelyn, her voice sharp. “You don’t even know how awful our P.E. teacher is. He makes us run an 800-meter dash every time!” “How can you lie like that?” Evelyn’s voice pitched up. The little girl immediately hid behind David. David shielded her, smiling at Evelyn. “Hey, let it go. She’s just a kid. If she doesn’t want to run, she doesn’t have to.” Then he looked down at the girl. “Don’t worry, Uncle David will go talk to your homeroom teacher. I’ll tell him you have a weak constitution and can’t do long-distance running.” The little girl’s eyes lit up. “Really?” Evelyn shoved him playfully. “You shouldn’t spoil her like this.” I looked down at Mia. Her face was entirely covered in tears. It wasn’t until the three of them walked away that Mia buried her face in my chest and sobbed uncontrollably for a long time. When she finally finished, she looked up, wiped her tears, and asked me, “Mom, can you just divorce Dad? I don’t want him anymore.” Looking at my daughter’s resolute eyes, I nodded. “Okay.” She was right. What exactly had I been holding on for so long? Wasn’t it just to save this family and preserve the warmth we used to have? But David had already cheated. The fracture was already there. Even if I exhausted every ounce of my energy to drag him back, could this family ever be the same? I had ruined his chance to rekindle his romance with his first love, forcing him to stay by my side. His body might be in this house, but his heart wouldn’t be. He would be bitter, resentful, and constantly angry at me. What use was a family like that to me? What I wanted was a harmonious home where my daughter could grow up happy and healthy. That harmony was long gone. In a toxic household, could my daughter ever truly be happy? I had backed myself into a corner. Thankfully, my daughter was more clear-headed than I was. She understood better than I did that keeping someone around who no longer loves you is entirely pointless. So, we wouldn’t keep him. Stepping out of that dead end, everything suddenly made sense. I realized that getting a divorce really wasn’t a big deal. After the divorce, my daughter and I could still live a perfectly happy life. I had a career, I had money, I had my daughter. Even though I was in my forties, I took great care of myself and looked good. I could just be a happy, single, wealthy woman. I couldn’t wait. I picked up my phone and called David. Once again, his assistant answered. I said loudly: “Tell David I agree to the divorce!” 9 The divorce proceedings went incredibly smoothly. David still had a shred of conscience left and knew he was entirely at fault. He didn’t dare look me in the eye the entire time. Thanks to his guilt, and my calm, cooperative attitude, he was surprisingly generous with the asset division. All of our real estate properties and cash reserves went to me. In addition, he gave me a 10% equity stake in his company. He said the shares were for Mia, so I accepted them without hesitation. After the divorce, David was left with nothing but his company. But the company was his ultimate safety net. He had the capability, the clients, the resources, and the market share. As long as the company existed, he had an endless stream of wealth. That was exactly why he was willing to be so generous with me. A month later, we went to city hall to finalize the paperwork. Mia came with me this time. She didn’t speak a single word to her father the entire time. Walking out of the building, David looked at Mia, offering a fawning smile. “Can Dad give you guys a ride home? Mia, even though Mom and Dad are divorced now, Dad still loves you just as much as before.” Right at that moment, Evelyn walked over holding her daughter’s hand. The girl had already changed her tune. She shouted at David, “Dad, let’s go to the amusement park! You promised!” Mia grabbed my hand and started walking away. “Mom, let’s go home.” 10 After the divorce, David’s mom—my former mother-in-law—came to see me once. She was furious on my behalf, thumping her chest and promising me that she would never let that homewrecker step foot in her house, and that she would only ever recognize me as her daughter-in-law. But it didn’t take long before I heard that David and Evelyn had officially gotten their marriage license. Rumor had it his mother had come to town ready for a fight, planning to move in indefinitely and swearing she wouldn’t leave until she drove Evelyn out. Very quickly, she was defeated and quietly sent back to her small hometown by her son. The old lady had apparently stressed Evelyn out so much she fainted three times. David’s heart broke for her, and he lost his temper at his own mother. So it goes: whoever makes the money in the family calls the shots. Ultimately, the old lady relied on her son to support her. If he put his foot down, she had no choice but to compromise. But it was also clear that while Evelyn looked weak and fragile, she was far from simple. She had David wrapped tightly around her finger. After the divorce, I almost entirely cut contact with David. I only occasionally heard updates about him through mutual friends. I realized that when it came to his life, I didn’t even care to listen anymore. The day before David’s 41st birthday, he surprisingly called me. It was the first time we had spoken on the phone since the divorce. “Uh, Claire, tomorrow is my birthday. Evelyn said we’re having a small party at the house. You and Mia should come hang out.” “I don’t have time. I’m very busy these days,” I rejected him flatly. David paused, then said, “Okay, you’re busy, but I’ll send the driver to pick Mia up.” “No,” I rejected him again. “If she goes alone, I’m worried she’ll be bullied.” “What kind of talk is that? She’s my daughter, my only child. Who would dare bully her in my house?” “Are you sure you only have one daughter? Don’t you have another one living in your house right now?” He hesitated, and I decisively hung up the phone. That evening, I told Mia about it and asked if she wanted to go, promising to respect her decision. Mia instantly refused without a second of hesitation. The next night, well past midnight, I was just about to go to sleep when I got another call from David. He sounded drunk. His words were slurred and messy. “Claire… for years… this is the first time I haven’t celebrated my birthday with you. I don’t know why, but I just feel so empty inside. Today, a lot of people came to the house. Relatives, friends, business partners… it was loud, but I just felt so lonely. I felt sick. In the past, every birthday, it was just the three of us celebrating. There weren’t a lot of people, but I was so happy… so satisfied.” “I didn’t get to eat the durian cake you always bake for me… I didn’t get a present from Mia… I feel awful…” David had a terrible habit: when he drank, he talked way too much. He got incredibly repetitive. To stop him from rambling, I cut him off: “You’ve had too much to drink. Go to sleep.” Right after I hung up, he called again. Watching the phone ring incessantly, I just turned it off. Lying in bed, my mind drifted back to the durian cake David mentioned. I actually hate durian. I despise the smell. Mia takes after me and refuses to eat it too. But David was the complete opposite; he loved it. Every year for his birthday, I would bake him a durian cake from scratch, and he would happily eat the entire thing himself. When baking it, just to avoid the overwhelming stench, I had to wear a medical mask. Since the divorce, I never had to buy durian for the house again. I never had to force myself to endure a smell I hated ever again. It was absolutely wonderful. 11 After the divorce, I realized I felt so much lighter. The main reason was that I just had far fewer things to manage. In the past, besides running my own firm, I had to handle endless chores involving kids, housework, relatives, and friends. After work, I had to help my daughter with her homework. On weekends, I took her to tutoring and extracurriculars, constantly worrying about her academics, life, and health. I was managing several properties and commercial storefronts. Just keeping track of the utilities, maintenance, and leases for multiple locations was a massive headache. Then there was the housework. Even though we hired a housekeeper to cook and clean, things like ironing specific clothes, organizing, and decluttering filled up my daily life. Furthermore, even though my in-laws didn’t live with us, I had to arrange all the holiday visits, gifts, and check-ins. The two of them never bothered David with anything; they called me directly. In their eyes, their son was a big-shot CEO who was busy every day, and they couldn’t risk interrupting his work. Then there were the extended relatives. Whether it was his side or mine, if anyone came to the city, they came straight to me, and I was the one tasked with hosting and organizing their stay. David had many clients he needed to maintain good relationships with, so I had to befriend the wives of those executives, taking them out shopping, to the spa, and sending them gifts to maintain our social standing. In the past, my planner was always covered in post-it notes reminding me whose birthday was coming up, who was opening a new store, whose relative was having surgery, and so on. But now, I didn’t have to deal with any of that messy social politics anymore. I sold off the extra properties. I only kept the luxury condo we currently lived in, a large penthouse downtown, and a villa in the suburbs. This way, I didn’t have too much real estate to manage. Honestly, I’m someone who hates micromanaging. If I can be lazy, I will be. Over the years, my ability to handle everything flawlessly and juggle endless trivial tasks was entirely forced upon me by circumstance. Now, besides work, I only had to take care of myself, my daughter, and my parents. All those other complicated social obligations were completely thrown out the window. I never had to write a reminder in my planner again. With this newfound free time, I found I had so much more energy to pour into my career. My consulting firm quickly expanded its operations. I co-founded this accounting and consulting firm with my college roommate. While the volume wasn’t massive, our client base was stable, and our profits grew steadily every year. One day, my assistant told me there was a massive contract on the table with highly lucrative margins, and asked if I wanted to take it. I took one look at the client’s name, and I immediately understood the hesitant look in my assistant’s eyes. The client was David’s company. “We’re not taking this contract. Decline it,” I said.

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My sister bound herself to the “The Lazier I Am, The Luckier I Get” System, and forced me to bind with the “The Harder I Work, The Unluckier I Get” System. Because of this, she slacked off every single day, yet remained the perfect, flawless goddess everyone adored. Meanwhile, I studied until the dead of night, yet remained an overweight, clumsy loser. My sister told me that in this lifetime, my only purpose was to exist as a pathetic backdrop to make her look better. But three months before the final college entrance exams… The System malfunctioned. 1 Everyone always said that Selene and I didn’t look like sisters at all. She was beautiful, brilliant, and talented in piano, painting, chess, and ballet. She always ranked first in our grade and was our parents’ absolute pride and joy. I was the exact opposite. Overweight, slow-witted, and incapable of doing anything right. Whenever my parents looked at me, their eyes were full of deep disappointment. “If only Astra were even half as excellent as her sister.” Whenever that happened, Selene would gently stop our parents from scolding me. She would walk up to me, smiling softly, and offer her encouragement. “Astra, as long as you work hard, I’m sure you can be just as amazing as I am.” When she said that, I never understood the strange, unreadable glint flickering in her eyes. 2 For a long time, I actually believed her. I thought that if I just worked hard enough, I could close the gap between us. So, to improve my grades, I stayed up studying and doing practice tests until 2 AM every night. To look better, I went jogging and jumped rope every day after school, and practically starved myself at dinner. But none of it worked. My grades were still dead last in the class. My body only grew heavier. My parents, who used to dote on me, started looking at me with utter despair. “Astra really is a lost cause.” “Sigh… if we only had Selene, our lives would be so much easier right now…” During the holidays, whenever my parents bought gifts, they only bought them for Selene. When I was younger, I used to foolishly run up to my dad and pull on his sleeve. “Dad, where’s mine? Did you forget me?” My dad would shake my hand off, looking annoyed. “This is a reward for Selene’s excellence. She got first place and won a huge award. What did you do?” When I had a dangerously high fever, my parents left me home alone to attend Selene’s parent-teacher conference. Those conferences weren’t even important, but they loved basking in the endless praise the teachers showered on “Selene’s parents.” Even my friends slowly started to hate me. No matter how hard I tried to hold onto them, they would inevitably abandon me to hang out with Selene. Eventually, the entire world revolved around Selene, and she was the only person left who was “nice” to me. Whenever I felt deeply defeated and wanted to give up, she would always be right there, encouraging me with everything she had. “Maybe you just aren’t working hard enough. Or maybe your methods are wrong,” she would say gently. “Why don’t you try a different approach?” People around us would sigh. “Selene, you’re just too kind. You’re the only person in the world who hasn’t given up on your sister.” “Seriously, if I were a natural-born loser like Astra, I would have killed myself and hoped to respawn with better stats.” “Don’t talk about my sister like that!” Selene would frown and scold them playfully, then grab my hand. “Astra, promise me you’ll never stop trying. Okay?” I would nod forcefully, and Selene would smile. I always thought her smile was beautiful. Until I discovered her secret. 3 It was a quiet night during my senior year of high school when I found out Selene was bound to a “System.” I was hiding out on the balcony when I overheard Selene talking to it. “Astra is such an idiot. She’s up studying past midnight again, and she’s still going to rank dead last on the next exam. I’m dying laughing. “Looking back, Mom and Dad picked the perfect names. I’m Selene, the moon, and she’s Astra, a tiny star. Stars only exist to make the moon look brighter. “Thank you, System. Thank you for being with me these past twelve years.” It felt like a bomb went off in my head. Suddenly, memories from the past flooded my mind. Twelve years ago, Selene and I were six years old. Back then, I was pretty and smart. In kindergarten, I was the one singing and dancing on stage, and I helped the teacher clean up after class. Selene was lazy. She had no interest in singing, hated practicing dance, and basically learned nothing. When guests came over, everyone would crowd around me, asking me to perform, praising me for being so bright and talented. They would look at Selene, who stood to the side knowing how to do nothing, and say, “Your sister is so amazing, Selene! You need to work hard to catch up!” Maybe that was the exact moment Selene started to hate the concept of “hard work.” When her System appeared, she decisively chose the “The Lazier I Am, The Luckier I Get” trait for herself. And for me, she chose “The Harder I Work, The Unluckier I Get.” And just like that, over the course of the next twelve years, exactly as she wished, the gap between us widened. She put in zero effort but became more and more perfect. I gave everything I had, only to become more and more miserable. … That night, after learning her secret, I quietly slipped away. I sat outside in the freezing night air wearing only a thin sweater for three hours. My body was numb from the cold, but all I could see in my mind was the smile Selene wore every time she encouraged me to “work harder.” When I was little, I never knew what to call that strange glint in her eyes when she smiled at me. Now I knew. It was called pure malice. The sister I trusted the most. The sister who told me to never give up. It turned out she was just using my blood, sweat, and tears as fuel to power her own glamorous, perfect life. She was the main character of this world. And my only function was to stand in the shadows forever, serving as her pathetic background prop. —But I refused to accept that. I was going to change my destiny. … With nothing left to lose, I thought of a plan and sneaked into the school’s broadcasting room. I put my hand on the microphone switch and started chanting in my head. “Calling System. Calling System.” There was no answer. After all, it was Selene’s System, not mine. But I knew that if it was an otherworldly power, it had to be able to monitor my thoughts. “Calling System—it’s fine if you ignore me, but do you see the PA microphone in my hand? I’m assuming your existence is supposed to be a secret, right? Here’s the deal: if you don’t respond in 60 seconds, I’m going to broadcast your existence on a loop to the entire school. Then I’m going to post it all over social media and write letters to scientific research facilities, telling them to come dissect Selene and her little parasitic System… “60, 59, 58…” I only got to 50 before a burst of static buzzed in my head. Then, a weak, panicked voice spoke up. “…Please don’t do that. No one will believe you anyway.” “How about we find out?” “…What do you want?” “Swap my System with my sister’s.” “I can’t do that. Once my functions are set, they can’t be altered.” I immediately reached to flip the microphone switch. “…Wait! Stop! Have mercy!” the System wailed. “How about this… what if I just do nothing?” “Nothing?” “Right. Even though I can’t alter the functions, I can… malfunction…” I thought about it. That meant, starting today, I would finally get exactly what I worked for. And my sister’s luck from being lazy would vanish. I paused. “Add one more condition.” “What?” “Keep this a secret from Selene. “Let her keep thinking this world is still revolving around her.” 4 The next day, I arrived at school early, just like always. To build up my stamina, I ran two laps around the track every morning. As I jogged slowly around the field, I saw Selene sitting in the bleachers eating breakfast with two of her friends. “Selene, your sister is running again.” “Look at her fat jiggling everywhere when she runs, hahahaha.” Selene replied dismissively, “My sister just has terrible genetics.” Her two friends agreed, their voices filled with envy. “Ugh, I’m so jealous of you, Selene! You eat non-stop all day, chocolates, chips, zero exercise, but you have huge boobs, a tiny waist, long legs, and abs!” “You totally hit the genetic lottery. You just don’t gain weight.” “Why didn’t your sister get those genes? She runs all day and doesn’t lose a pound.” I ignored their mocking and kept running. Starting today, my running wasn’t useless anymore. Unlike before, where I only felt sheer exhaustion, this time I could feel the heat radiating from my forehead and the sweat pouring down my face. My calories were burning. My fat was melting. I was going to get thin. After my run, I grabbed my backpack to head to class. As if remembering something, I turned back and looked up at Selene, who was lounging in the bleachers. “Sister, don’t be late for class.” There was two seconds of silence in the bleachers, followed by a burst of raucous laughter. “Selene, your sister is actually telling you to go to class.” “Even the Dean of Students doesn’t care if you go to class, and she’s trying to boss you around?” “Get lost, loser. You don’t understand the world of geniuses.” It was true. The teachers at our school turned a blind eye to Selene skipping class. The reason was simple: she skipped class, never did homework, never studied, but every time there was a major exam, she always ranked #1 in the entire city. But from now on… she wouldn’t be so lucky. I shrugged and headed to my classroom. I couldn’t wait for first period to begin. The feeling of knowledge actually sticking in my brain was incredible! I soaked up the lessons like a sponge, eager to go home and tackle practice exams. But on my way home, I ran into Selene and the school’s resident golden boy, Sebastian Reed. Sebastian’s luxury sports car was parked nearby. It looked like he was inviting Selene to a party. When Selene saw me walking by, she immediately stepped forward and grabbed my hand. “I’m not going. I have to walk my sister home.” Sebastian was furious. He glared at me. “Astra, did you tell Selene she couldn’t go? “How many more obstacles are you going to throw in our way just because of that stupid marriage contract?” Oh, I almost forgot. This guy—Sebastian Reed, the heir to the Reed empire, the guy Selene was secretly obsessed with but pretended not to care about—was technically my fiancé. 5 When I was five, I called 911 when Sebastian’s grandfather had a heart attack, saving his life. Out of gratitude, Mr. Reed arranged an unofficial engagement between his grandson and me. Back then, Sebastian treated me really well. He would protect me when other kids bullied me. He would carry me on his back when I scraped my knee. When the other kids teased him, calling us a married couple, he wouldn’t get mad. He even shared his snacks and toys with me, saying very seriously, “Since we’re going to get married, what’s mine is yours.” Later, Sebastian moved out of state for school. He only returned when we were in high school. The day I found out he transferred to our school, I ran out excitedly to greet him. That day, Sebastian was surrounded by his new, popular friends. When they saw me, they started cheering and teasing, “Hey Sebastian, your fiancée is here!” In the past, Sebastian would have laughed along with jokes like that. But this time, his face was as cold as ice. He took one look at me and turned his head away in disgust. “Shut up. I barely know her.” After school that day, I locked myself in my room and cried for a long time. Selene, noticing my sadness, immediately ran in to comfort me. “Nobody hates someone who treats them well,” her voice was soothing, almost hypnotic. “If you just try harder to show him you care, I’m sure he’ll be nice to you again.” I believed her. So when Sebastian injured himself playing basketball, I brought him a first-aid kit. And what happened next was… Sebastian took the entire bottle of red antiseptic and poured it directly over my head in front of everyone. He looked down at me, dripping red liquid, a cruel smirk on his lips. “There’s nothing I hate more in this world than a desperate, clinging loser. “Astra, stop making me sick.” After I ran away crying, I told Selene what happened. She frowned and blamed me. “You just used the wrong approach. You made him mad. I suggest you write him an apology letter.” I didn’t want to write one. So Selene ran to our parents and told them I had offended Sebastian and ruined the Reed family alliance. My parents panicked. They forced me to write the letter and hand-deliver it to Sebastian. Sebastian stood in front of the entire class and read the letter out loud like it was a comedy routine. “What does this even mean, ‘I don’t want to ruin the relationship between our families’? Astra, are you trying to use my grandfather to threaten me? “Newsflash: I’m not afraid of anything.” That day, Sebastian went home demanding to cancel the engagement, only backing down after his grandfather beat him with a cane. But his hatred for me only grew deeper. When my parents heard about it, they sighed endlessly. “If only Sebastian were engaged to our Selene instead.” Selene played the understanding daughter. “Mom, Dad, I would never steal my sister’s man. I won’t do anything.” And she truly did nothing. But Sebastian became addicted to her. “Astra’s sister is so pretty, and she actually has a personality,” he’d say. Sebastian started chasing after Selene. The more she ignored him, the more curious he became. The colder she was, the more he felt she was unique. In short, Selene did absolutely nothing, yet effortlessly captured the frantic obsession of the Reed empire’s heir. Everyone said she wasn’t just a natural-born genius, she was a natural-born goddess. It wasn’t until I learned about the System that I finally understood Selene’s strategy. In my relationship with Sebastian, the harder I tried, the more my “unlucky” trait made him despise me. And the colder she was, the more she rejected him, her “lucky” trait made Sebastian fall deeper into obsession. This way, my engagement to Sebastian would inevitably fall apart, and she could step in to marry into the Reed family. Just like right now, as Selene continued to glare coldly at Sebastian. “I don’t want to go to your birthday party. And also—stop coming to find me.” With that, she turned to walk away. In the past, this move always worked perfectly for Selene. According to their usual dynamic, Sebastian’s obsession would spike. He would block her path, begging her to get in the car until she finally relented with a stoic face, sliding into the passenger seat of his luxury car while basking in the envious stares of every student around them. To give Sebastian enough time to stop her, Selene intentionally walked very slowly. And Sebastian did speak up. “If you don’t want to go, then don’t.” He scratched his head, sounding irritated. “Always making it seem like I’m begging you. It gets exhausting.” I watched Selene’s footsteps grind to a violent halt. She couldn’t help but look back, staring at Sebastian in utter disbelief. Just like how my body wouldn’t instantly become skinny the second the System turned off, Sebastian’s feelings for Selene didn’t vanish instantly either. When he saw her abruptly turn around, his foul mood immediately brightened. “See? You actually did want to go. You’re just playing hard to get,” Sebastian smirked, pulling open the car door. “Alright, you win. Get in.” If Selene had gotten in the car right then, her relationship with Sebastian probably would have continued to progress. But Selene just assumed Sebastian’s attitude shift was the System working its magic again. So she let out a cold laugh, putting on her icy-goddess arrogance. “Sebastian, I know your family is rich and powerful, and every girl fawns over you. But I’m not like them. Don’t think I’ll fall for you that easily.” With that, Selene turned and walked away. Her face wore a look of absolute certainty. She knew that her rejection would only make Sebastian think she was even more special. But actually, if Selene had looked back at that moment, she would have seen that Sebastian’s expression wasn’t one of intrigued admiration. On the contrary, his face had turned completely dark. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Sebastian scowled and muttered to his friend in the passenger seat: “Who the hell does she think she is?” 6 Unfortunately, Selene, who was already walking away, didn’t hear Sebastian’s comment. So she remained happily trapped in her beautiful illusion, convinced everything was going perfectly. Even though the System’s responses had become noticeably vague and evasive lately, she didn’t care at all. She continued skipping her study sessions, continued gorging herself on junk food, and continued watching me study late into the night. She offered her gentle encouragement while that mocking, malicious glint danced in her eyes. She didn’t realize that everything was quietly shifting. Soon, the first major city-wide mock exam arrived. The moment the test papers were handed out, I looked at the questions and felt a surge of hot blood rushing through my chest. I could feel it—every ounce of effort I had ever put in hadn’t been wasted. All those vocabulary words I memorized late at night, all those practice problems I solved… they were all stored perfectly in my brain. The only difference was that previously, due to the System’s interference, the knowledge points were locked behind thick mental walls. I couldn’t connect them. But right now, all those walls were shattered. Everything finally clicked. As I looked at the questions, every single one felt incredibly familiar. I had encountered variations of them thousands of times during those endless nights of studying. Now, they were just presenting themselves in a slightly different format, but they were old friends. This was the true meaning of “hard work paying off.” I breezed through the questions one by one. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Selene, sitting diagonally in front of me, rapidly filling in her scantron bubble sheet. Selene always finished her exams much faster than everyone else. I used to think it was because she was exceptionally brilliant. Only later did I realize it was the “luck” granted to her by the System. Whether it was multiple-choice or fill-in-the-blank, whatever answer she randomly guessed turned out to be right. On essays, she could scribble down absolute nonsense and still get partial credit for her “steps.” With the overwhelming power of the “The Lazier I Am, The Luckier I Get” System, even if she didn’t know half the material, she would still score incredibly high. Clearly, Selene was still taking the test exactly as she always did. Soon, the bell rang, and we handed in our papers. Outside the testing room, everyone gathered in the hallway to compare answers. A crowd formed around Selene. “Goddess! Question 8 on the multiple-choice was so hard. Did you put C or D?” Selene replied casually, “C.” The students who picked C cheered immediately, while the D group groaned in despair. Everyone trusted Selene’s authority. As the undefeated academic queen, her answers were basically gospel. I stood nearby with my backpack and asked quietly, “Why is it C?” Selene paused and looked over at me. She probably couldn’t fathom why a loser who failed the easy questions had the audacity to ask about the hardest one. She said impatiently, “Even if I explained it, you wouldn’t understand.” Selene’s friends immediately chimed in to mock me. “Exactly. The calculation is way too complex. With Astra’s brain, there’s no way she’d get it.” “Focus on getting the basic questions right first. You’re never going to get points on a question like that anyway.” I pressed my lips together and sneered internally. The correct answer was absolutely D. Selene had no idea how to solve it. She had just blindly guessed, fully expecting that, just like before, whatever she wrote down would magically become the right answer. I looked at Selene’s aloof, falsely confident expression, feeling utterly amused. But on the outside, I just took a timid step back. “Oh… I see…” Suddenly, someone behind me gently supported my elbow. It was the class president, Peyton Clark. Peyton was also a brilliant student. She had tied for first place with Selene once before. With a polite, investigative tone, she asked Selene, “Selene, I calculated it three times and kept getting D. Could you explain why it’s C?” The students who had chosen D immediately perked up, refusing to give up hope. “Yeah, Goddess, walk us through it!” “Even if I got it wrong, I at least want to know why.” Selene’s face turned pale. She couldn’t explain it. Because she just picked C. After a moment of silence, Selene spoke coldly. “I’m tired. When the answer key comes out, read the explanation yourself or ask a teacher. I’m not obligated to tutor you.” With that, she turned and walked away. In the past, Selene had always acted cold and dismissive toward her classmates, but she was still incredibly popular. But this time, Peyton frowned first. “I just wanted to ask her a question. Just because she has good grades doesn’t mean she has to be so rude.” Other students whispered in agreement. “Yeah, Peyton, your grades are amazing too, and you don’t act arrogant like her.” As they murmured, they started walking toward the cafeteria. I planned to go eat by myself, but out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a bloodstain blooming on the back of Peyton’s pants. I hesitated for a second, then hurried over to Peyton and quietly whispered to her. … In the restroom, I handed Peyton a pad from my bag. “You can tie your school jacket around your waist, and I brought an extra pair of sweatpants. If you don’t mind borrowing them…” My tone was a bit timid. After all, in the past, whenever I tried to help someone, it always backfired. But this time, things seemed different. Peyton looked at me deeply, a hint of confusion in her eyes. “Why did I always think you were so hard to get along with?” She scratched her head. “That’s so weird. You’re actually really nice.” Explaining the truth was too complicated, so I just smiled and turned to leave. But Peyton called out to me. “Are you heading to the cafeteria too?” I turned back and received my first genuinely friendly smile since starting high school. “Let’s go together.”

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For twenty years, we were childhood sweethearts. Everyone knew Declan loved me. In college, this rebellious bad boy had three ribs broken in a street fight and didn’t make a single sound. But for me, he dropped to his knees in front of his attackers. When his knees hit the pavement, he looked up and smiled at me: “Don’t cry, Harper. My life is yours. What’s a little kneeling?” But on the day of our engagement, I heard him say to another woman with my own ears: “Baby, my life is yours.” And his “baby” wasn’t me. 1 Everyone at our university knew Declan was a rebellious trust-fund kid. He was a cynical bad boy who played games with life, acting like nothing in the world mattered to him. The only exception was me. Whenever I was involved, he would lose his cool instantly. I am Harper. Everyone also knew that the campus beauty, Savannah, had silently loved Declan for seven years. She once ran through a torrential downpour to bring him cold medicine, getting so sick she missed three days of classes. She sneaked a hot plate into her dorm to cook soup for him, nearly getting expelled when she was caught. She hid a sketchbook that someone eventually found. Every single page was filled with sketches of Declan. Declan spacing out, Declan playing basketball, Declan getting water for his girlfriend… Many people felt bad for her, pitying her seven years of unrequited love. But Declan’s love for me was a universally acknowledged fact. He had taken a knife for me. He had gotten on his knees for me. He had abandoned his reckless ways and studied relentlessly just to get into the same Ivy League school as me. At the height of the rumors, people used to say Declan loved me more than his own life. Once upon a time, I sentimentalized it and believed them. The school’s untouchable rebel used to hold my hand, begging me to date him. “Harper, have a little mercy on me…” The guy who was ruthless to his enemies couldn’t bear to raise his voice at me. “Harper, don’t cry, it’s my fault. Please don’t cry…” He was arrogant and untamed, yet he swore a vicious oath right to my face: “Harper, if I ever betray you, I’ll go straight to hell.” Twenty years of knowing and protecting each other. I thought I knew every side of Declan. I thought I was as familiar with him as the lines on my own left palm. Until right now. I stood fifteen feet away, watching like an outsider as he violently defended another woman. His fury looked distant and foreign. He seemed to have lost all rationality. Gone was his usual cool demeanor; the veins on his knuckles popped, making him look like a wolf ready to tear someone apart. “You dare touch what’s mine?” My breath hitched. My spine stiffened. The person he was claiming as his own wasn’t me. A mean girl from a rival sorority was pinned against the wall, choking out a sob. “She did it to herself…” Before she could finish, a lighter flared. Declan narrowed his eyes. “Dec, he’s new. He doesn’t know about Harper’s history,” a guy named Chase said quickly. Realizing that Declan was having a PTSD trigger, the guy hurriedly tried to apologize, snatching the cigarette out of the girl’s hand. But the look in Declan’s eyes was terrifyingly cold as he slowly approached the girl. “I didn’t mean to… It was her… she burned herself…” The girl was stammering, terrified by the sheer murder in his eyes. Declan’s expression was deadly. He turned his head slightly to look at Savannah, his words sharp as knives. “Do it back.” His tone was icy as he repeated, “However she bullied you, do it back.” All the sound in the alley seemed to vanish. I stared blankly at Declan’s cruelty, instinctively wrapping my coat tighter around myself, yet I still felt freezing cold. It was true that Declan had taken a knife for me. It was also true that he had washed his hands of his violent past. He had promised me he would never put himself in danger again, that he would never get involved in this kind of mess again. But now, he was losing his mind for Savannah. His handsome eyes were bloodshot as he glared at the girl. “I’m backing you up. What are you afraid of?” he told Savannah. Savannah kept her eyes lowered, not daring to look at him. Her frail body trembled slightly, looking so fragile that a gust of wind could knock her over. The collar of her shirt was torn, exposing her pale collarbone—and a fresh, glaring burn mark from a cigarette. When my eyes landed on that mark, my chest stung violently, as if I had been burned myself. My hand instinctively touched my chest. Over my own left breast, there were three distinct cigarette scars. Declan stared intensely at that red burn mark, his voice trembling involuntarily. “Do it back. Did you not hear me?” “Declan…” Savannah whimpered softly. She gently tugged at his sleeve, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. Declan froze. A flash of profound heartache crossed his face. For some reason, suppressed memories flooded my mind in chaotic fragments. “Harper, does it hurt really bad?” “Harper, I failed to protect you.” “Harper, please don’t look like that. I’m so scared…” A 17-year-old Declan holding me tightly, crying helplessly, his voice trembling beyond recognition. After that day, Declan quit smoking. More accurately, he physically couldn’t smoke anymore. The doctors said it was PTSD. To this day, he held a lit cigarette, slowly backing the mean girl into a corner. His hands were shaking uncontrollably. He was terrified. “Declan!” the girl suddenly shrieked. “Don’t you have a girlfriend? Everyone says you love her! What the hell are you doing standing up for this manipulative bitch?!” “Your girlfriend…” Declan’s eyes snapped up, glaring at her with a murderous intensity. The girl immediately shut her mouth, swallowing her next words. She was shaking in fear, her eyes darting around frantically. And then, she saw me. Like a drowning woman spotting a lifeline, her eyes lit up with desperate joy. She screamed at the top of her lungs, “Call the cops! Call the cops for me!” “Please, call the police…” Everyone turned their heads. The moment our eyes met, Declan froze. He instinctively dropped the cigarette and hurried toward me in a panic. “Harper…” He looked down at me, his aggressive, sharp features instantly softening. The intimidating aura vanished completely. Just the sound of him saying my name made my throat tight. Seeing my red eyes, Declan hesitated, then hurriedly pulled me into his arms. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. I stood you up, didn’t I?” “I was going to come find you, but my phone rang.” “I don’t know what happened to me, Harper.” “When I heard someone say, ‘I’ll burn you alive with this cigarette,’ I completely lost it.” “I was so scared. I thought what happened back then was repeating itself.” “I don’t know what came over me, all the blood just rushed to my head and I couldn’t think straight. I was just so terrified…” So that was it. That was why Declan lost control. Five years had passed. That bullying incident was my nightmare, but it was an inescapable nightmare for Declan too. Yet my heart still throbbed with a dull ache, like it had been smashed with a sledgehammer. I looked up at him, my eyes burning. “Didn’t you promise me?” Declan froze. His eyes instantly reddened, and he lowered his head like a dog that knew it had done wrong. My voice trembled as I repeated, “Did you forget what you promised me?” After a long silence, he finally looked at me with bloodshot eyes. “I don’t think I can ever get over it, Harper.” “I failed to protect you back then.” “If I had to do it over again, I would never let that happen to you…” The teenage boy unknowingly gripped my hand so tight my knuckles ached. After that incident, Declan couldn’t sleep well for a long time, constantly waking up in the middle of the night. His mom told me he would toss and turn, wanting to call me in a panic, but afraid of waking me up. He took me to see a therapist, but in the end, he was the one who needed the therapy. Later, he took a burning cigarette and pressed it into his own chest three times, creating the exact same scars. “Harper, whatever pain you went through, I have to feel it too.” “Harper, even if you don’t blame me, I can’t stop blaming myself.” I thought of his tearful eyes, his trembling hands, and the sleepless nights he spent tortured by guilt. No matter what, I couldn’t bring myself to blame him. “It’s in the past, Declan. It’s all in the past…” I gently hugged him back. “Harper… it will never happen again.” Declan buried his face in my neck, a scalding tear dropping onto my collarbone. I should have believed him. Declan had never broken a promise to me before. But the unease in my heart lingered. This was his first time breaking a rule. His first time abandoning me. His first time breaking our promise. And it was all for Savannah. 2 In high school, everyone knew Declan and I were a package deal. But Savannah still fell hopelessly, incurably in love with him. Her love was silent, passionate, like a moth to a flame. She didn’t care if she burned to ash. Once, when Declan and I were eating in the cafeteria, someone intentionally bumped into Savannah, spilling soup and sauce all over her, and then blamed her for it. Declan casually stepped in and bailed her out. She looked up at him with panicked eyes, her gaze lingering for just a second before she ran away in a fluster. That was probably the beginning of her crush. But I was completely oblivious. Because back then, Savannah was painfully ordinary. It was hard to mistake Declan helping her for anything romantic. She had just transferred from a small rural town. She was chubby, her complexion was dull, she spoke with a thick accent, and worst of all, she always walked with her head down, like she was hiding from the world. But I don’t know when it started—she lost weight, her skin cleared up, her accent vanished, and she stopped slouching. Her style became trendy and chic. Years later, I finally realized that it was the brave, stubborn nature of a girl charging forward for love. After she lost the weight, she wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but she had this pure, innocent vibe that easily triggered a man’s protective instincts. She had a lot of guys chasing her, and she gradually gained the halo of “campus beauty.” But Savannah rejected them all, shyly keeping her head down and saying she already liked someone. The guys only tried harder, assuming it was just an excuse. Until someone found a sketchbook in her desk. Every single page was of the same person. A boy with short hair, sharp eyes, and a small mole on the right side of his nose. It turned out Savannah really did have someone she liked. And that person was my boyfriend. Some guys, purely wanting to start drama, stole the sketchbook and threw it onto Declan’s desk. Declan was ruthless. He personally handed it back to her. “Nice drawings. Think you can draw one of my girlfriend for me?” A teenage girl’s heart shattered on the floor. That night, Savannah cried until her eyes were swollen. But she didn’t seem to give up. She brought Declan medicine in the rain, and secretly cooked soup for him behind the RA’s back. After graduation, Declan and I both got into Stanford, and Savannah followed us to the same city, enrolling in a nearby, less-prestigious state college. I never really paid attention to Savannah because of how Declan treated her. When she brought him medicine, he ignored her, nuzzled my neck, and whined for me to go buy him medicine instead. I rolled my eyes. “Don’t you already have some right there?” He casually tossed the bag of medicine she brought him into the trash. “I only take what you buy me. I’m not eating anything from anyone else.” When Savannah brought him soup, he dumped it out, grabbed the takeout soup I brought him, and ate it like it was a five-star meal, raving about how good it was. I laughed at him for being fake, but he held my hand with total sincerity. “Harper, whatever you give me is the absolute best.” Declan and I dated for seven years, and Savannah stayed single the entire time. Many rich kids at her college pursued her, but she didn’t look twice at any of them. Gradually, people started digging into her past, and rumors flew. They said the reason the campus beauty rejected countless guys was because her heart was already taken. And the guy she loved had a girlfriend. They were childhood sweethearts, went through everything together, and even went to Stanford together. Some called Savannah shameless for lusting after another woman’s boyfriend; others praised her as a hopeless romantic, keeping herself pure for him for seven years. Someone even said, “I heard that guy is getting married soon. The campus beauty has never even dated. It’s our time to shine, boys!” It was true. Declan and I were about to get married. We had agreed ages ago that we would get our marriage license right after graduation. And right at this critical moment, this incident happened. Was it really just a coincidence? 3 As a group of us walked out of the alley, Savannah followed closely beside Declan, clutching her chest. It seemed like she finally mustered all her courage to lightly tug at his shirt. Declan looked at her, his face darkening slightly with confusion. Savannah looked embarrassed, avoiding his eyes, and stammered, “Dec… can I… can I borrow your jacket for a minute?” Declan paused. His eyes flicked to me for a second, then scanned the guys behind him. He yelled casually, “Chase, lend her your jacket.” As soon as the words left his mouth, the guys started jeering. “Chase, you really have no situational awareness.” “Such a perfect opportunity, and you need Declan to play matchmaker for you?” Savannah’s face went chalk-white, all the color draining from her tightly pressed lips. Everyone there knew that in high school, Chase had relentlessly pursued Savannah. Declan’s actions clearly drew a firm boundary between him and Savannah. Savannah bit her lip, took Chase’s jacket, and intentionally walked further away. Declan told Chase to take Savannah to a nearby pharmacy to treat her burn, and then led the rest of us into a diner. Everyone hadn’t seen each other in a while, so the conversation was lively and loud. Savannah and Chase came back quickly. The tab was on Declan, and nobody held back. Except for Savannah, who sat quietly in the corner, nibbling on a dry burger. She was too embarrassed to order anything else and almost choked a couple of times. Everyone was busy teasing Declan and me; no one paid any attention to her. Until someone suddenly yelled, “Dec, I’m a grown man, why do I need to drink a hot latte?!” The guy next to him immediately smacked his arm. “You’re an idiot. Dec is just looking out for Harper.” The guy went, “Ohhh,” in realization. “So we’re just collateral damage for his romance.” The group cheered and teased us, but as the actual girlfriend, I couldn’t bring myself to smile. I was Declan’s girlfriend. If he wanted to buy me a latte, he didn’t need to jump through so many hoops. Declan’s face looked a little stiff, and he avoided my gaze. But Savannah, holding that hot latte, had sparkling eyes. She looked up and smiled at me. My heart instantly went cold. It was glaringly obvious who those dozen hot lattes were actually for. I remembered how every winter, Declan would wait for me and press a piping hot latte against my cheek. In the sweltering heat of summer, the teenage boy would run back panting, handing me a room-temperature water bottle. “Harper, I ran to five different stores and couldn’t find a cold one. Just make do with this…” Whenever I had bad cramps, he would watch me in pain and instinctively force me to avoid cold drinks. Declan was truly wonderful. So wonderful that I couldn’t bear to let him go. But that wonderfulness no longer belonged exclusively to me. He had duplicated it for someone else. While my thoughts were still a mess, I saw Savannah lean close to Declan, whispering something in his ear. Declan’s expression shifted, and he instinctively started taking off his jacket. Halfway through, he seemed to remember something, leaned into my ear, and whispered that Savannah had gotten her pants dirty, so he was lending her his jacket. As Declan pulled his jacket off with his head down, I wanted to remind him that doing this was highly inappropriate. But for some reason, my mind drifted back to that summer. I used the very first paycheck I ever earned—$500—to buy my boy this jacket. He started off acting proud, saying I wasted my money, but he couldn’t suppress his smile. He happily spun me around in the air, then rested his head on my shoulder, his soft hair brushing against my neck as he murmured, “Harper, why are you so good to me…” When the teenage boy looked up, I realized his eyes were completely red. I remember thinking back then that my puppy was a little silly. He was so easy to please… So many years had passed, but the jacket still looked brand new. He had always cherished it. If anyone even brushed against it, he’d get upset. But today, he lent it to Savannah. With such an intimate, ambiguous excuse. And his reaction was so natural. Without a single moment of hesitation. A terrible premonition washed over me. I realized that, while I wasn’t looking, someone had successfully lured my puppy away… 4 On the car ride back, I leaned exhaustedly against the window, quietly watching Declan. I thought about when we were five. He would tirelessly drag his favorite toys over to me—ferocious dinosaur action figures, terrifying monster trucks, and intimidating toy guns—slamming them down in front of me and instantly making me cry in fear. At family gatherings, the adults always used to tease him about it, saying Dec always wanted to be good to Harper, but he was just too dense and stubborn to know how. When we were ten, a boy passed me a note. Declan furiously charged at him and started a fistfight. When our parents were called in, he stubbornly maintained, “I just didn’t like his face.” On the walk home, the boy with a half-swollen face gently tugged at my shirt, pleading pitifully, “Harper, don’t play with him…” I remembered the scorching heat of a midsummer day. The electric fan was whirring loudly. He picked up my dropped hair tie from the floor and suddenly blurted out, “Harper, do you want to be my girlfriend?” I felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. I stared at him with wide eyes. He leaned in slightly, looking straight into my eyes, and promised, word by word, “Harper, as long as you say yes, I’ll never betray you in this lifetime.” Seeing my eyes water, Declan panicked and grabbed my hand. “I just thought Savannah looked too pitiful, being bullied like that, and she was too embarrassed to order food.” “When I lent her the jacket, I panicked. I didn’t think it through…” “Harper, I’ll never contact her again.” “Harper, you have to believe me. I only love you.” “Please don’t cry, Harper, please don’t cry. It kills me to see you like this.” Right in front of me, Declan dragged Savannah’s number into his blocked contacts. He hadn’t even saved her name in his phone. He swore up and down, “I have absolutely nothing going on with Savannah.” I was pulled into his arms, listening to his gentle, soothing voice. I didn’t struggle, and I didn’t speak. But the premonition in my heart was deafening. So, when Declan went to take a shower, I quietly opened his iMessage. Even though I was mentally prepared, the moment I saw the chat history, my brain buzzed, and the tightly wound string in my head snapped violently. A massive wave of shock and fury engulfed me, making my entire body shake uncontrollably. In their recent messages, Savannah had sent Declan a photo. It was a mirror selfie in a hotel room. She was wearing a tight, black slip dress. Paired with sheer black tights. Declan: “Why are you suddenly dressed like this.” Savannah: “Don’t worry, I won’t bother you anymore after this. Dec, I just want to make you happy.” “I want…” “I want to give you a proper goodbye.” I stared blankly at the messages, remembering that that was the day Declan and I went wedding dress shopping. He had seemed distracted. I noticed something was off and asked what was wrong. He avoided my eyes and said there was an urgent issue with his internship that needed his immediate attention. Understanding how hard his job was, I let him leave early. It turned out he was in a rush to go see Savannah. He was so desperate he couldn’t even focus enough to finish looking at wedding dresses with me. The boy who once gave up a prestigious academic competition for me was now using such a clumsy excuse to blow me off. And I had actually believed him. I tilted my head back, forcing the tears from falling. But the phone slipped from my weak grip and hit the floor. I picked it up with trembling hands and stubbornly kept scrolling up. “You’re a good person.” “But I have to get married.” “We’re done.” “Don’t get involved with a piece of trash like me ever again.” It was hilarious. My boyfriend was secretly breaking up with another woman behind my back. “But I’ll be good. Dec, you know me. I don’t want anything from you.” “Just as long as I can be by your side, even just as a backup, even if you only think of me when you’re bored, I’ll be happy.” Declan: “But Harper and I are getting married. I don’t want to let her down.” Declan wired Savannah a sum of money. Thirty thousand dollars. In disbelief, my fingers swiped up furiously. I needed to see exactly when Declan had started betraying me. It turned out, as early as the night of our high school graduation party, they were already messing around. That night, Declan got too drunk, and the two of them slept together in a hotel. Afterward, Declan guiltily messaged: “I’m sorry. I drank too much last night. I didn’t know it was your first time…” “It’s okay, Declan. I was willing.” To compensate Savannah, Declan bought her a designer bag. The funny part was, he bought me the exact same bag. I thought it was a romantic surprise. Looking back, that was probably just a form of compensation, too. Declan, oh Declan. If you knew you were doing me wrong, why did you keep lying to me over and over again? That night, I couldn’t reach him and tossed and turned all night. The next day, he explained that he got too drunk and just grabbed a hotel room nearby with some classmates. He didn’t lie. He told the truth. Except the “classmate” was Savannah. When he came to see me, he even brought me a Stitch plushie, saying he won it from a claw machine on his way to dinner. I love Stitch plushies. Whenever Declan saw a machine, he would pump quarters into it until he won, then present it to me like a trophy. My entire display cabinet at home was filled with them. That day, he obediently drank his hangover cure, suddenly stood up, hugged me tight like a little kid, buried his face in my shoulder, and murmured, “Harper, I only love you.” I thought it was a bit weird, but I still said, “I love you too.” Thinking about it now makes me want to vomit… So, that was Savannah’s first time, and it was Declan’s first time too. After that, maybe he was addicted, or maybe he just couldn’t resist the temptation. The two of them slept together many, many times. Savannah: “Are you going to be home alone tonight?” Declan: “I’m taking Harper to the dentist this afternoon. I’ll text you when we’re done.” Declan: “Harper is going out of state for a competition in a few days. I’ll come see you.” Declan: “Wait for me here at 3 PM on Sunday.” Savannah: “Okay.” … I felt like all the energy had been drained from my body. I slid down the wall and collapsed onto the floor. Honestly, there had been signs of Declan’s cheating, but I had just trusted him too much. I was so full of hate. I hated him, and I hated myself. That time Savannah brought him soup—I ran into her right outside his hospital room… But Declan didn’t show a single hint of guilt. He even dumped the soup down the drain right in front of me. Later, Savannah whined to him, saying she slow-cooked it for hours and got written up by the RA for it, completely humiliating herself… Declan said, “Harper was there.” “I dumped the soup.” “Don’t do this kind of thing again.” Savannah asked, “Declan, is she really that great?” Declan: “She and I have been together for a long time.” “Don’t think about things you shouldn’t be thinking about.” Savannah asked again, “She doesn’t suspect you, does she?” Declan: “She’s always trusted me implicitly.” Every single word Declan typed was like a knife plunging into my chest. Piercing my heart until it was shredded and bloody. So, he knew. He knew how hard-fought our years of love had been. But why? He took advantage of my trust, lying to me, betraying me time and time again, playing me for an absolute fool. Were all of Declan’s displays of love, all that sincerity, all that burning passion, just an act? Thinking about the past, how could I ever believe him again? It was all fake… It hurt. It really hurt. How could he say he loved me while messing around with another woman? Declan, a love like that is far too cheap. I don’t need it. I don’t need it anymore…

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I spent two years desperately trying to win over Julian—only for him to mistakenly believe I was bullying his precious childhood sweetheart. He smiled as he crushed his cigarette out on the palm of my hand. Later, while I was on my period, he pushed me into the freezing swimming pool, holding my head underwater so I couldn’t breathe. Finally, the System allowed me to change my target. I stopped paying any attention to Julian. But then, like a rabid dog, he cornered me, his eyes bloodshot, desperately trying to kiss me. Only to be grabbed by his collar and yanked away by another man a second later. The man smiled lazily. “Julian, are you really trying to steal your older brother’s girlfriend?” That’s right. My new target was Julian’s older brother. The actual mastermind behind the Sterling family empire. 1 Amidst the roaring laughter of the crowd, I struggled to push myself up on the edge of the pool, trying to climb out. But the moment my upper body broke the surface, the mocking cheers grew louder. I instinctively looked up. The boys standing at the edge of the pool dragged their eyes down my face, staring pointedly at my chest. The summer uniform fabric was thin and semi-transparent when wet… I realized what was happening immediately. But before I could move, a hand reached out, grabbed the back of my head, and forcefully shoved me back underwater. “Get the hell out of here, all of you!” Julian’s hand was still holding me down; his yell was directed at the crowd. When I finally broke the surface again, only Julian was left standing by the pool. “Cough! Cough!” I choked up a few mouthfuls of chlorinated water. Julian stood there, hands shoved deep into his pockets, looking down at me like I was trash. A cold, sinister smirk hung on his lips. “Are you disgusting or what?” The moment my hands grabbed the edge of the pool again, he kicked them away. He crouched down, gripping my chin tightly and forcing me to look at him. “Everyone knows I like Maya, yet you still follow me around every single day.” His smile widened, turning cruel as he dragged out his words. “How cheap are you, Chloe?” “Do you really like me that much?” I stayed silent, unsure of how to answer. If this were any other day, I would have just said “Yes” to keep pushing the mission forward. But today, the freezing water combined with my terrible period cramps made the pain so agonizing I couldn’t even make a sound. Seeing that I wasn’t answering, the smile slowly faded from Julian’s face. He threw my chin away in disgust. After giving me one last long, dark look, he turned and walked away. I finally managed to drag myself out of the pool. I took two steps before my heavy, freezing body gave out, and I collapsed into unconsciousness. 2 When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed. The school security guard had found me passed out and called an ambulance. The System finally seemed to take pity on me. “Would you like to change your target?” I licked my pale, dry lips. “Yes.” “The mission to capture Julian Sterling has failed. This is your final opportunity,” the System said. I nodded calmly. If I kept tangling with Julian, I wouldn’t even get to use my final opportunity. He would torture me to death first. After a brief pause, the System spoke again, sounding unusually hesitant. “This time, your target is… Silas Sterling.” I didn’t understand why the System sounded so awkward. Silas Sterling. The 27-year-old CEO and absolute dictator of the Sterling Group, the largest conglomerate in the city. It was just a coincidence that he shared a last name with Julian. Maybe the System had watched me get tortured so brutally by Julian that it actually grew a conscience. “The time limit for this mission has been extended. We are giving you enough time to prepare for your college entrance exams. You are allowed to begin the mission after graduation.” I breathed a sigh of relief, smiling a genuine smile for the first time in ages. “Thanks.” In my original world, because of certain circumstances, I never got the chance to take my college entrance exams. At least this would make up for my biggest regret. 3 When school started on Monday, I showed up at the door of Julian’s classroom holding a small cake. Everyone gave me a knowing look. Someone even shouted out, “Hey Julian, your biggest fan is here to deliver cake again!” Through the glass window, I saw Julian slouching lazily in his chair. He let out a contemptuous scoff. “She thinks I want it just because she brought it?” “Tell her to get lost.” I pressed my lips together and walked up to the desk closest to the door. “Could you do me a favor and give this to your class president?” I asked, handing over the cake. Instantly, the entire classroom went dead silent. Then, every single head swiveled toward Julian, whose face had instantly darkened like a thunderstorm. It seemed everyone was shocked to realize I wasn’t there for him. The girl sitting in the front row stammered a “sure” and placed the cake on the empty desk belonging to the class president. The security guard told me a male student had been the first to spot me unconscious. I found out later it was the president of Julian’s class. It was only right that I brought something to thank him today. Ignoring the weird stares from the class and the death glare Julian was shooting me, I thanked the girl and turned to leave. I had barely taken one step when a massive crash echoed behind me. I paused, instinctively looking back. Julian, who had been sitting at his own desk, had somehow already walked over to the class president’s desk. He had kicked the desk over. The cake had hit the floor, completely smashed. Julian stared at me through the crowd, offering a provocative, unapologetic smirk. “Oops. Slipped and dropped your cake. What are you gonna do about it?” I wanted to shove his head into the ruined cake. But Julian was absolutely not someone I could afford to mess with right now. Rumor had it his father was the biggest shareholder of the school board. I turned my head, completely ignoring him, and walked away. Behind me, another crash sounded, even louder than the first. I didn’t look back. 4 Recently, I had become the hottest topic of gossip in the entire school. “It seems like Chloe really doesn’t like Julian anymore.” When people came up to ask me directly, I nodded vigorously to confirm. Who would like a violent, savage psychopath anyway? I stopped following Julian around. I stopped offering him favors. But my actions didn’t seem to convince everyone. They thought I was just playing hard to get. Julian clearly thought the same thing. Until the day graduation finally arrived, and I met Silas Sterling for the very first time. Julian lost his mind. 5 The graduation gala was held the day after our final exams. All the performances had been rehearsed weeks in advance. My class’s final performance was a choir song, and I had been selected to play the piano accompaniment. When I stood in front of the mirror in my formal gown, I genuinely froze for a second. The System chimed in with some rare idle chatter. “That dress really suits you… You look ethereal.” I offered a small smile. “Thanks.” It quickly followed up with: “Silas Sterling was invited to attend today. There’s something you need to know beforehand…” … When I walked out of the dressing room, I distinctly heard a collective gasp from the surrounding students. I felt a bit embarrassed, my ears burning hot. But the smile on my face froze the very next second. Julian was standing a short distance away. He looked like he had just come out of the batting cages. He was holding a baseball bat in one hand, wearing a black baseball cap, casually chewing gum. His eyes drifted toward me coldly. Then, he walked straight over. “Everyone out.” With Julian’s intimidating reputation, no one dared to argue. The room cleared out instantly. 6 The gown was off-the-shoulder. Julian’s eyes locked shamelessly onto my collarbones. I frowned and turned to leave. “Take one more step and see what happens.” The cold voice behind me dripped with obvious warning. “Do you need something?” I didn’t look at him, my voice filled with impatience. “I’ve been hearing some rumors lately. I came to verify them.” Julian casually swung the baseball bat, then lifted it, pressing the tip under my chin to force my head up. He smiled and asked. “They say you don’t like me anymore.” “Is it true?” I couldn’t figure out what he was playing at, so I chose to just tell the truth. “Yes.” The baseball bat shifted, sliding along the side of my face, tapping my cheek lightly. Julian was still smiling, but his eyes were completely dead. “You have a death wish, don’t you, Chloe?” I didn’t get it. I stopped bothering him and Maya. Wasn’t that exactly what he wanted? He stepped closer, lowering his head toward my collarbone. With the bat pressed hard against my side, I couldn’t move an inch. I clenched my fists. Just as I was about to shove him away, my homeroom teacher’s voice rang out from the doorway, calling for me. Julian froze. He slowly lifted his eyes to look at me. “Listen to me. If I ever hear that rumor again, you’ll regret it.” When is this psycho going to die? Without saying a word, I shoved him out of the way and walked out the door. 7 The performance went perfectly. Our class even won an award. But since we had already graduated and the class was officially disbanded, no one really cared about the trophy. So, I volunteered to go on stage to accept it. Because today, the person handing out the awards was Silas Sterling. The man in the immaculately tailored suit walked gracefully toward me. It was a face that could rival any top-tier model. And… it looked vaguely familiar. I took the trophy from his hands. “Thank you, Mr. Sterling.” I offered him my brightest smile, showing off my dimples. He looked at me thoughtfully for a second before offering a polite, distant smile in return. By the time we stepped off the stage, we still hadn’t exchanged a single word. But I wasn’t giving up yet. A few moments later, I checked the time and slowly made my way toward the area near Silas’s seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a heavy steel lighting rig loosening above him. The exact second it snapped and plummeted toward him, I sprinted forward. “Mr. Sterling!” I tackled him to the ground. A blinding, agonizing pain exploded across my back. “Chloe!” Julian’s voice ripped through the air from nearby. I struggled to keep my eyes open. Julian was sprinting toward me. The look on his face was pure, unfiltered panic—something I had never seen on him before. The next second, I collapsed into Silas’s arms, passing out from the pain. 8 A minor hairline fracture in my back, but I got exactly what I wanted: I was moved into Silas Sterling’s mansion. He carried me into the hospital for my x-rays and then brought me straight to his house. When I woke up, it was the middle of the night. Silas was sitting on the sofa across from my bed. When he spoke, his voice was deceptively gentle. “Tell me, who paid you to put on that little performance today? Hmm?” So it was an interrogation. I propped myself up and looked at the man hidden in the shadows. “Nobody.” My brain short-circuited, and the next words just flew out of my mouth. “Mr. Sterling, I like you.” Silas narrowed his eyes at me and let out a low chuckle. “You like me?” I nodded with absolute sincerity. Silas stood up and slowly, deliberately unbuttoned his suit jacket. A sudden chill ran down my spine. He walked over, leaned down, slid an arm under my back, and effortlessly lifted me onto his lap. His fingers casually brushed against the hem of my shirt. His voice was warm and intoxicating. “If you like me, you wouldn’t refuse this, would you?” I knew he was testing me. But I still couldn’t stop myself from shaking. His hand slowly traced its way up to my collarbone, his voice unhurried. “Hmm?” I gripped his shirt tightly, completely at a loss. Silas sat up slightly, cupping my cheek to bring my face closer. His breath hovered just over my lips. “You’re scared.” I snapped out of my daze and pushed him away. “I-I need to use the restroom…” The bedroom had an en-suite bathroom. But I completely ignored it and rushed out of the room. 9 However, when I accidentally pushed open the door to another room down the hall, I froze completely. Hanging on the walls were leather belts, riding crops, and things I couldn’t even name. I gulped dryly and asked the System. “Why does it feel like Silas is an even bigger psycho than Julian?” The System coughed awkwardly. “I forgot to mention, Silas has a secret side to him. He’s…” Before it could finish, someone grabbed my wrist from behind. My entire body went rigid. I slowly turned my head. “Julian?” He was frowning deeply, letting out a cold sneer. “You stopped liking me just so you could throw yourself at this freak, Silas?” What gave one psycho the right to call someone else a psycho? “What are you doing here?” I asked. Julian grabbed my arm and tried to drag me away. “I’m getting you out of here. You need to stay far away from Silas.” “He’s a lunatic,” he said. Before I could respond, a slow, gentle voice floated down the hallway. “Little brother, what do you think you’re doing?” Julian froze instantly, stepping in front to shield me. Little brother? Julian Sterling. Silas Sterling. They were actual brothers. Julian had intentionally hidden his true background and his relationship to Silas at school. I peeked out from behind him, and my blood ran cold. Silas was holding a handgun, aimed directly at Julian. His expression was completely calm. Even if it wasn’t lethal, the intimidation factor was terrifying. “Come here.” His gaze shifted from Julian to me. “Don’t go!” Julian yelled. I stood rooted to the spot, hesitating. Why did this mission make me want to die? Why did I have to conquer two brothers, each one more unhinged than the last? 10 Just then, the System whispered something in my ear. I looked at the man holding the gun. A few seconds later, I pulled my arm out of Julian’s grip and walked toward Silas. “Chloe!” I turned around, meeting Julian’s desperate eyes calmly. “Julian, stop acting like you’re risking your life to save me.” “From the very beginning, the person who has hurt me the most… is you.” He stared at me unblinkingly, his eyes burning. “I already said I was f*cking sorry, didn’t I?!” “Don’t go to him!” I didn’t waver. I just shook my head. When I reached Silas’s side, he lowered the gun. “Good girl,” he said, his lips curving into a faint smile. He lifted my wrist, bringing it to his lips. He turned his head and pressed a soft kiss against my skin. At first, I was terrified of this man who clearly had some dark, twisted kinks. But because of that simple action, I couldn’t stop my face from burning bright red. … Julian was dragged out the front door by Silas’s bodyguards. I stood by the window, watching Julian standing outside in the pouring rain, staring up at me. “What are you looking at?” Silas locked the door and walked toward me lazily. When I saw what was in his hand, the smile died on my face. It was a thin leather belt. He raised an eyebrow, the belt dangling from his hand to the floor. I swallowed hard. Silas didn’t seem to notice my panic. He easily lifted me with one arm and set me on the wide bay window ledge. “Let’s continue what we were doing before we were interrupted.” He leaned in, rubbing his nose affectionately against mine. My entire body went numb. I blinked rapidly. Silas’s eyes flicked toward the window behind me. It was obvious he could see Julian standing out there. Silas’s hand suggestively traced the shell of my ear. He let out a low chuckle. “Let’s do it right here. What do you think?” Isn’t this moving a bit too fast… “Silas!” Julian’s muffled roar drifted up through the rain. “I swear to God, if you touch her, I’ll kill you!” I looked over my shoulder. The soaking-wet teenager was grabbed by the bodyguards again and dragged off the property. 11 Silas watched the whole scene unfold with cold indifference. Only when Julian’s silhouette completely disappeared did he finally step back, creating space between us. He casually tossed the leather belt onto the windowsill. “Tell me why you’re really here, and I’ll let you go.” Silas unconsciously ran his thumb over his pinky ring, smiling. “Otherwise, you’re never leaving this place.” “You saw what was in that room. I have countless ways to make you wish you were dead.” “Oh.” I blinked at him. “I never planned on leaving anyway.” “As for the stuff in that room… if you really want me to try them, I guess I could agree.” “But can we limit it to one a day?” Because some of that stuff looked like it would really hurt… Silas stared at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. I hopped off the window ledge, walked right up to him, and looked up. The distance between us vanished again. The man’s eyes were pitch-black, as if no light could escape them. “Mr. Sterling, why are you so convinced I have an ulterior motive for approaching you?” “I told you from the start. I like you.” His eyes flickered. I met his gaze without a shred of hesitation, repeating it. “I like you, Silas.” “Love at first sight.” He still didn’t believe me, but he silently permitted me to stay. I figured he just wanted to keep me close to find out what my “real” motive was. 12 “Mr. Sterling, I made dinner just for you today~” — Ding! Affection +5. “I saw the news about your company acquisition tonight! You’re so amazing!” — Ding! Affection +5. That night, leaning against the headboard, I asked the System a question that had been bugging me. “Why does his affection go up just from me complimenting him, even when I literally haven’t done anything?” Back when I was chasing Julian, I would spend weeks preparing the perfect gift, only for him to toss it in the trash without a second glance. How could two brothers be so drastically different? The System didn’t fully grasp complex human emotions. “Isn’t this a good thing? At this rate, you’ll complete the mission and go back to your own world in no time.” “Based on his childhood, he’s extremely starved for affection. When you show up treating him so well, it’s completely normal for him to fall for you, right?” I froze for a second. The System then told me Silas’s backstory. Silas and Julian were half-brothers. Silas’s birth was not a happy accident. Their father had forced himself on Silas’s mother, resulting in pregnancy. Later, the father married Julian’s mother in a wealthy business alliance. He kept Silas’s mother trapped as a mistress. After years of torment, she committed suicide, leaving young Silas behind. Eventually, he was brought into the Sterling household under the title of an “illegitimate son.” Before Julian’s mother passed away, Silas never enjoyed a single day of the privileges that came with being a Sterling. Subjected to constant abuse and suppression, he lived worse than the family’s maids. When their father died, he left almost the entire inheritance to Julian. Silas’s current position and wealth were built entirely from scratch, clawing his way up through unimaginable hardship. … “No one has ever loved him,” the System said. “Even his own mother saw his birth as a disgrace.” “You are the first person to approach him without wanting his money or his power. Of course his heart is going to flutter for you.” I suddenly felt a profound sadness for him. No one had ever loved him. And he thought I was the first. But I was lying to him too. I was only doing this for a mission. 13 That heavy feeling lingered in my chest. The next morning, I kept thinking about what the System had told me, zoning out constantly. Even when Silas finished breakfast and was getting ready to leave for work, I was in a daze. “I’m leaving,” Silas said, buttoning his cuffs. I didn’t react immediately. “Oh. Okay.” He paused and looked over at me. “Is something wrong?” I stared blankly at him. “Did you forget something?” I thought for two seconds, then let out a slow “Huh?” Silas had his suit jacket draped over his arm, clearly ready to walk out the door. Suddenly, a soft chuckle broke the quiet air. Silas tossed his jacket onto a chair and walked slowly toward me. “It’s fine. I’ll help you remember.” He took the spoon out of my hand. Without warning, he scooped me up with one arm. So tall! Sitting on his forearm, I looked down. Terrified he might drop me, I quickly threw my arms around his neck. Silas carried me toward the room filled with all the unspeakable BDSM gear. I grew nervous. “What are you doing?” He smiled gently at me but didn’t answer. That made it even scarier… When he walked in, he reached for that same leather belt. !!!!! A very bad premonition washed over me. This time, Silas actually used it. He bound my hands to the window ledge in the master bedroom, then lightly brushed his thumb against my chin. His tone was warm. “When you remember, I’ll untie you.” “But what if I need to use the bathroom?!” I stared at him in disbelief, picking the most pressing question out of the million screaming in my head. Silas paused for a moment, appearing to genuinely consider the logistics. He found a solution quickly. But I wished he hadn’t. When he had picked me up so abruptly earlier, my slippers had fallen off in the chaos. I was sitting on the ledge, my bare feet dangling. Silas crouched down in front of me, slowly taking one of my feet into his hands. He seemed to be admiring it, almost playing with it. A chill crawled up my spine. After a long time, his eyes fixed on my ankle, and he spoke softly. “How about I have someone custom-make a locked anklet for you?” “So you can walk freely around this room…” His thumb rubbed against my ankle bone, whispering. “And only this room.” His twisted childhood had seriously warped his brain! In a flash of lightning, I finally remembered what I had forgotten. “I like you!” I blurted out frantically. Every morning, right before he left for work, I would run up to him, confess my love, and then smile and ask, “So, do you like me a little bit today?” As his affection meter steadily climbed, his verbal answer was always a flat, “No.” Today, things were different. After I asked my question, he uncharacteristically didn’t answer right away. “Can you untie this now?” I whispered. “It’s chafing.” Silas finally moved, setting down my foot before it completely cramped up, and unbuckled the belt. I swallowed nervously. Once the mission was complete, I was supposed to leave. With Silas’s extreme control issues, if I disappeared, wouldn’t he lose his mind? But when that moment finally came, I realized… I still didn’t understand Silas at all. 14 When Silas came home from work that evening, dark clouds covered the sky, accompanied by the low rumble of thunder. A torrential downpour was coming. The rain started smashing against the windows just as Julian—who I hadn’t seen in over a month—showed up. He brought a crew, took down the bodyguards outside the villa, and kicked the front door open. Julian’s eyes locked immediately onto me. He was chewing gum, a lazy, arrogant smile on his face. “Chloe. I’m taking you with me.” “He can’t stop me this time.” Because of the chaos he had just caused, I had panicked and almost let the soup I was making for Silas boil dry. I glared irritably at the intruder. “I already told you I’m not leaving. Can you please stop bothering me?” Julian rolled his neck, letting out a scoff. His eyes were full of unbridled arrogance. “You’re leaving whether you want to or not.” From the very beginning, Silas had remained seated on the sofa, watching the circus unfold with cold indifference. A booming clap of thunder broke the heavy silence in the room. Silas stood up and walked over to the dining table, acting as if everything was completely normal. “You made soup today?” His tone was casual. I nodded slowly. He clearly wasn’t taking Julian seriously. Julian sneered. “Silas, is pretending you’re not bothered actually fun?” “I came here today to take Chloe, sure. But I also wanted to reminisce about the good old days with you.” He leaned casually against the doorframe, his expression dripping with nostalgia. “You remember, right? Five years ago, when you were absolutely nothing, you were no better than a dog. “Whenever anyone in the house was slightly annoyed, they’d take it out on you. Hey, let me ask you: do you even remember how many times you were slapped across the face or kicked to the ground?” I froze completely. The System had only given me a vague summary, saying Silas had a “rough” childhood. The gruesome details were infinitely more shocking. Julian frowned, asking in a mock-serious tone, “Silas, do you think you were just born with a peasant’s destiny?” His words were laced with unconcealed mockery and triumph. My fingers dug white-knuckled into the edge of the dining table. After his last sentence, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I grabbed the bowl next to me and hurled it directly at him. “What makes you think you have the right to judge anyone?!” “Julian, I always thought you were just a scumbag, but it turns out you’re a complete piece of trash.” Caught off guard, the bowl clipped Julian’s forehead. His face instantly darkened. He glared at me through gritted teeth. “You hit me for this bastard?” Hearing that word, my lingering fury ignited. Just as I picked up another bowl to throw, Silas raised his hand and stopped me. When he looked at Julian, there wasn’t a trace of anger in his eyes. “I heard you care very deeply about your little cousin?” He asked a completely unrelated question. Julian’s eyes narrowed sharply. “What are you talking about?” Silas smiled, picked up the iPad resting on the table, played a video, and slid it toward Julian. The piercing screams of a woman echoed from the speakers. The footage was crystal clear: she had been kidnapped. The second Julian recognized the girl, all the color drained from his face. He forced a strained smile. “She’s not even in the country. If you’re gonna use deepfakes, at least make them convincing.” Silas smiled too. “It’s in Valencia.” The moment the words left his mouth, the arrogant, reckless boy seemed to have all his life force drained from his body. The System had mentioned before that Julian treated his little cousin, Maya, like his own sister.

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The world ended not with a bang, but with a slow, suffocating decay. And in the middle of it, I was kneeling on the bed, my hands buried in the thick, coarse fur of my boyfriend’s neck, trying to soothe him. My fingers glowed with a faint, pulsing blue—my “gift,” if you could call it that. I was a sponge for pain, a sensory empath who could pull the agony out of someone else and tuck it into my own marrow. Suddenly, my mind wasn’t my own. A jagged stream of text, like a hijacked social media feed, flickered across my consciousness. It was a “Stream” of comments from an audience I couldn’t see, and they were vicious. [God, she’s such a blind waste of space. How can she not tell it’s the wrong man?] [Look at her, using her “healing” as an excuse to feel him up. She’s pathetic.] [She thinks he’s a Golden Retriever shifter, but he’s a Wolf. He’s playing her for a fool.] My heart hammered against my ribs. The Stream grew louder, more frantic. [Just wait until the Real Heroine shows up. Maeve’s little pain-transfer trick is a joke. She’s just a placeholder until Raina arrives.] [She’s going to die in the Verdant Tide. Eaten by a man-eater plant. That’s what she gets for trying to steal the Main Lead.] The words hit me like a physical blow. Every strange, nagging feeling I’d suppressed over the last week suddenly crystallized. The way his scent had changed from cedar to something sharper, like ozone and rain. The way his skin felt—harder, leaner. I let go of the soft, pointed ears I had been stroking. My hands shook as I scrambled back, nearly falling off the bed. “Put your clothes on,” I whispered, my voice cracking. I faked a cough, trying to hide the tremor. “I… I think I can do this from a distance now. I don’t need to touch you. You’re going to catch a chill.” 1 The man shifted. I could hear the rustle of the sheets, the heavy, deliberate thud of his feet hitting the floor. The air in the room grew cold, thick with a sudden, sharp tension. “Maeve, what kind of nonsense are you talking now?” The sound of metal rattled—the light iron shackles I’d insisted he wear “for his own safety” while I treated his supposed internal injuries. His voice was tight, vibrating with an impatience that made my skin crawl. “You’ve been ‘checking’ me for five days,” he growled. “Five days of you crawling all over me, claiming you can’t find the source of the pain. And now you can do it from across the room? Dammit, are you playing games with me?” My breath hitched. He knew. The truth was, I’d been lying. Becket wasn’t actually hurt. But I knew Becket didn’t love me—not the way I loved him. For him, I was a responsibility, a burden he took on because of a promise. I’d faked the diagnosis just to have a reason to touch him, to feel close to someone before he inevitably realized I was a dead weight and left me behind. But the Stream… the Stream said this wasn’t Becket. It said I was being hunted by a “Main Lead” and that my obsession would be my death. In this post-apocalyptic hellscape, a blind girl with a non-combat gift is a liability. When the Shift happened, Becket had changed into a canine-shifter—strong, fast, and fiercely protective. But ten days ago, he’d become agitated, insisting on scouting for other survivors. When “he” came back that night, he was crankier, sure, but he let me touch him. He let me hold him. I thought I’d finally broken through his icy exterior. But if this wasn’t Becket… then who had I been sleeping next to for a week? “Becket?” I started, choosing my words like I was walking through a minefield. “I was just thinking… do you remember our first date? I’m having a bit of a brain fog. My memory is slipping.” The man went still. I could feel his gaze, sharp as a scalpel, tracing the line of my throat. A long silence followed. Then, a low, dark chuckle. “First your eyes go, now your brain? You’re a mess, Maeve.” He sighed, the sound heavy with something I couldn’t identify. “It was the Freshman Gala. My brother was giving the keynote speech. You were so mesmerized you almost tripped over a folding chair. I caught your hand before you hit the floor.” He paused. “That was the first time I held you.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. It was him. The memory was perfect. Relief washed over me, warm and dizzying. I lunged forward, throwing my arms around him. My God, he must have been training in secret. His chest felt like a marble wall, and the heat radiating from his skin was intense. The little devil on my shoulder whispered that now was the time. “Becket,” I whispered, blushing. “Remember that outfit I bought? The one you said was too… much? Would you wear it for me? Just once?” His body turned to stone beneath my touch. The hand on my waist tightened, his fingers digging into my skin. I waited, my heart singing. Then, the chains rattled violently. He stood up abruptly, shoving me away. His voice was muffled, thick with suppressed emotion. “Enough, Maeve. Don’t push your luck just because you know I care about you. Do you even realize… forget it. Button your shirt. Come here and unlock these damn chains.” I blinked, the rejection stinging like a slap. “Oh. Okay.” I crawled toward him, my fingers fumbling with the locks. His breath was coming in ragged, shallow gasps. “I heard a noise in the bathroom,” he said, his voice rasping. “I need to check it out. Stay here. No matter what you hear, do not come in.” The moment the shackles fell away, he was gone. 2 The Stream exploded with mockery: [Hahaha, honestly, being blind is a blessing for her. She doesn’t have to see how much he hates her touch.] [Look at him! His hands were literally shaking from the effort of not punching her. He’s suffering through this for the sake of his brother.] [If he weren’t doing this as a favor to keep her safe while the brother is away, he’d have tossed her to the zombies days ago.] [Wait… why didn’t he just tell her he’s the wrong brother?] [Please, she’s a clingy idiot. If she knew the truth, she’d freak out and wouldn’t let him in. It’s the apocalypse—he needs a place to stay too.] I sat frozen on the bed. The realization hit me like ice water. This wasn’t Becket. It couldn’t be. Because the real Becket would never admit he “cared” about me. Everything felt different now. The Becket I knew complained about my cooking, calling it “slop” and eating canned rations instead. This man complained, but he finished every bowl of noodles I made and then washed the dishes. The real Becket jumped if I so much as grazed his arm. This man… he lingered. Who was he? And how did he know about the Gala? The water in the bathroom stopped running. Before I could process it, a pair of cold, powerful hands grabbed my ankles. “Stop daydreaming,” he said. “It’s time to wash your feet.” The real Becket would never wash my feet. He’d told me a thousand times he wasn’t my servant. But this man had given in after I’d asked just once. Panic, cold and sharp, flared in my chest. If he was only doing this to keep a roof over his head, then I was a hostage to his “kindness.” “No!” I shrieked, kicking out. I knocked the basin over, water splashing everywhere. I tried to bolt, but I didn’t get two steps before a thick, powerful tail—stronger than any dog’s—wrapped around my waist. He hoisted me into the air effortlessly. I dangled there, trembling. Cold water dripped from his hair onto my neck. His voice was a low vibration against my spine. “Where are you running, Maeve? You’re the one who begged me to do this.” “Come back here. Don’t make me say it twice.” The Stream flickered: [God, she’s so dramatic. He’s literally doing her a favor and she spills the water? Water is a luxury now!] [She’s a brat. She forced the younger brother into a relationship using a ‘life-saving debt,’ and now she’s bothering the older one? Low class.] 3 I realized then that if I kept acting out, I’d force him to drop the mask. And whatever was under that mask was terrifying. I forced myself to go limp. I lowered my head, projecting an image of submissive guilt. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. “I just… I realized you were right. You aren’t my servant. I should do it myself. I’ll be better, I promise.” The air went dead silent. Even without sight, I felt his eyes boring into me, a predator watching its prey. “I’m not washing them!” I blurted out, backing away until I hit the headboard. “Water is precious. I won’t waste it. I’ll never ask again!” He watched me for a long time. Finally, without a word, he cleaned up the mess and walked out. I curled into a ball, shaking. I thought I’d escaped. But five minutes later, the door creaked open again. “Stop being difficult, Maeve.” “I put rose petals in the water this time. It’s warm. And stop with the ‘precious water’ excuse. As long as I’m here, you’ll have what you need. If you don’t soak your feet, they’ll stay cold all night, and you’ll just end up freezing me out of the bed.” Every argument died in my throat. His fingers, long and calloused, wrapped around my ankle. The temperature was perfect. The scent of roses filled the room. I forgot to fight. I let him dry my skin with a soft towel, my heart hammering a confused rhythm against my ribs. The moment he let go, I dove under the covers. I heard a faint, ghost of a chuckle before the door closed. The Stream scrolled by: [I can’t believe he actually went out and found roses. In this world? Those aren’t normal flowers—they’re all mutated predators.] [He literally got stabbed by thorns to get those for her. His arms are covered in scratches, but she’s too busy acting like a princess to notice.] [Oh no… he’s been marked by a SSS-rank Man-Eater. It tracked him back from the rose bush. He’s a dead man walking.] [Ugh, when is this girl going to die? She’s literally a death sentence for everyone around her.] 4 The scent of roses felt like a floral shroud. I gripped the sheets, my knuckles white. He had risked his life for a flower? I had been the one to ask Becket out. I was the one who bought him gifts, who asked for a single rose as a symbol of something real. Becket always told me it was pointless. You can’t even see it, Maeve. You’ll just prick your finger. It’s a waste of credits. And now, a man wearing Becket’s face had bled for them. The door opened again. A soft, warm glow permeated the room. [Wait, is that a nightlight?] [It’s a little wolf! That’s so cute, I want one.] [I was wondering why he stopped at that raided pharmacy. He stole a battery-operated nightlight?] Electricity was a memory. We lived by candlelight and scavenged batteries. But I had always been terrified of the dark. The scent of fresh blood hit my nose—the scratches the Stream mentioned. My heart softened, despite my terror. I reached out, my fingers searching for him. He flinched back instantly, as if my touch was fire. [LMAO, she thinks he wants to hold her hand. He’s disgusted.] [The nightlight isn’t for her, idiots. It’s for Raina. The Heroine is arriving tomorrow, and she’s the one who’s actually afraid of the dark. He’s just testing it out on the ‘spare’ tonight.] I pulled my hand back, my face burning. “I… I just wanted to help. I can take the pain of your scratches. I can transfer it…” “No.” His voice was like a sheet of ice. “Listen to me, Maeve. Whether I am hurt or not, you are never to use your gift on me. Do you understand? Never.” [Look at him protecting himself. He won’t even let her touch his pain. That’s a real man—saving himself for the one he actually loves.] A dull ache throbbed in my chest. I nodded silently. He set the nightlight on the bedside table and lay down beside me. “Fine,” he sighed. “Come here.” I froze. “What?” “Don’t play coy,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt with a weary sigh. “You won’t sleep until you get your ‘goodnight kiss.’ Let’s just get it over with. I’m exhausted.” My stomach did a somersault. I used to force Becket to hold me, to kiss me, because I was so desperate for a sign that I wasn’t alone in the world. But I didn’t know then that this wasn’t Becket. I scrambled backward, clutching my collar. “No! I… I’ve been thinking. I was wrong. We should have boundaries. You’re right. I shouldn’t force you.” 5 The silence was deafening. “Boundaries?” he repeated. His voice was dangerously low.

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The night before our engagement party, I found myself scrolling through my phone, a mindless habit to quiet the pre-wedding jitters. A headline caught my eye, stopping my thumb mid-swipe: “I’ve fallen for my daily commute partner—what do I do?” I clicked. The poster described her “commute partner” as a guy she saw every day, always driving a Maybach. She wrote about how they’d shared small moments at stoplights for months. Then, she mentioned an accident—how she’d been clipped by a car while on her bike, and he had leapt out of his luxury sedan to gather her in his arms, staying with her until she felt safe. The top comment, with thousands of likes, read: “If you don’t tell her how you feel, how will she ever know?” Beneath it, a reply: “I bet she’s already secretly in love with you.” I scrolled down further. The poster had attached a photo of the accident scene, likely taken by a bystander. The focus was sharp on a hand reaching out to help the girl. Around that wrist was a bracelet—a limited-edition Van Cleef & Arpels piece. I knew that bracelet. I knew it because I had spent three months tracking it down as an engagement gift. I had even paid a premium to have our initials—mine and Camilla’s—engraved on the inner clasp. I pinched the screen, zooming in until the pixels blurred, staring at that gold chain until my heart felt like it was being squeezed by a cold, iron fist. … The post had been live for months, but the engagement remained high. I clicked on the poster’s profile. It was a digital diary of a young man’s agonizing, sweet unrequited love. About six months ago, he had thanked his followers for the courage to confess. He told them they were officially together. After that, the feed became a highlight reel of their romance. Buying her peonies. Spending weekends at a secluded cabin. Last month, he posted a photo of a ring. Their fingers were interlaced, her hand resting over his. “I put it on her finger today,” he wrote. “I’m just waiting for the perfect moment to officially propose.” I enlarged the image. I stared at it until my eyes burned and the room went dim. I had designed that ring. I had gone through nine drafts, pulling countless all-nighters to get the setting just right. Every time I felt like giving up, Camilla would wrap her arms around my neck from behind, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. I’d pull her into my lap and whisper, “Almost there. Just one more revision.” She’d murmur, “I’m right here with you,” and sit beside me, working on her laptop until the sun came up. The original blueprints were still on my desktop. The design was one-of-a-kind. But weeks ago, Camilla told me the jeweler had lost the custom piece. I had been naive enough to believe her. I’d actually cried, devastated that the symbol of our future was gone. Camilla had been so tender then, wiping the tears from my cheeks, promising she’d find a better ring, telling me not to worry. It wasn’t lost. It was on her hand. She had taken my soul’s work and given it to another man to claim as his own. Two days ago, the boy posted again: “She’s been so busy lately. Hardly any time for her boyfriend.” I swiped past it. I didn’t like it. I didn’t comment. I just turned my phone face down on the mahogany desk and watched the rain streak against the window. She was busy, alright. Busy planning our engagement gala. The phone buzzed. A new post. A location tag for a high-end French bistro downtown. “She told me to meet her here at eight. She’s finally going to introduce me to her inner circle.” The evidence was absolute. The bracelet I bought, the ring I bled for. And yet, a pathetic part of me still couldn’t believe it was her. Not my Camilla. Driven by a ghost of hope or perhaps a need for total destruction, I changed my clothes. I called for the car and asked the driver to take me to the restaurant. 7:20 PM. I arrived early. The hostess gave me a rehearsed smile. I gave her Camilla’s phone number for the reservation. She checked the system and led me toward a private back room. The hallway was long, carpeted in a deep, blood-red velvet that swallowed the sound of my footsteps. I reached the door. It wasn’t fully latched. Voices drifted through the gap. “Camilla, you’re really going all out for the ‘husband-to-be,’ huh? An 8:00 PM dinner, and you had the girls get here at 7:30 just to prep?” “He’s shy,” Camilla’s voice rang out—smooth, authoritative, effortless. “I wanted you all here first so he doesn’t feel overwhelmed. And please, watch your mouths tonight.” “Don’t worry, we’ll be on our best behavior.” Laughter followed, the crystalline clink of expensive wine glasses. Then, someone brought up my name. “But Cami, what about the one at home? What about Emmett? We all grew up with the guy.” “Please,” another woman scoffed. “Let’s call it what it is. Emmett is the son of the man who saved Camilla’s life. In the nicest terms, he’s a legacy ward. In reality? He’s just a stray her father left behind.” “He’s a childhood playmate at best,” someone added. I stood frozen, waiting for Camilla to shut them down. I remembered high school, when a bully called me an orphan. Camilla had tackled the guy, pinning him to the dirt until he apologized. She had turned to me afterward, her eyes red with protective fury, promising me, “If anyone ever says that again, I’ll destroy them.” I waited for that Camilla to speak. I waited for her to tell them I wasn’t a stray. “Harsh, but not inaccurate,” Camilla said. Her voice was light, casual. Like she was commenting on the weather. “But,” she paused, “don’t say it to his face. He’s sensitive. Thin-skinned.” The room erupted in giggles. “Aww, is Cami catching feelings for the charity case?” “Hardly,” she drawled. “It was my mother’s dying wish that I look after him. He lives in my house, I provide for him—it’s what’s expected. Think of him as a pet. He’s low-maintenance enough.” More laughter. I stood in the hallway, hot tears blurring my vision, my entire body trembling. A pet. I didn’t care how pathetic I looked. I pushed the door open. The laughter died instantly. Camilla sat at the head of the table, twirling a wine glass between her fingers. When she saw me, her mask slipped for a fraction of a second. “Emmett.” She stood up. “What are you doing here? I told you to stay home and rest.” The other women at the table went silent, looking at their plates. I let out a jagged, hollow laugh. My face was wet with tears, and I probably looked like a madman. “Is that what I am, Camilla? A pet?” Her lips parted. “Emmett, let me explain—” “Explain what? That I’m just an extra mouth to feed? That I’m ‘low-maintenance’?” The words caught in my throat. I choked on a sob. “Or should you explain that my father died saving your life, and in return, you view him as nothing more than a servant?” Her expression shifted. It wasn’t guilt. It was something else—something I’d seen her use on beggars on the street. A look of profound annoyance. Disgust. The look of someone tired of a recurring nuisance. She looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. She didn’t say a word. But that look said everything. One of the women glanced at her watch. “Camilla, it’s almost eight.” Camilla nodded. She didn’t move toward me. After a few moments, she spoke, her tone dripping with bored condescension. “Emmett, go home. The engagement party is still happening tomorrow. You’ll get everything you’ve ever wanted. Just stop making a scene.” Everything I wanted… I opened my mouth to scream, to rail against the injustice of it. She raised a hand, cutting me off. Her eyes fell to my hands, which were beet-red from the cold and shaking uncontrollably. She frowned and picked up her blazer from the back of her chair. “It’s freezing out,” she said, draping the jacket over my shoulders. The movement was brisk, almost clinical, as if she were afraid she’d regret the kindness if she lingered. The jacket still held the warmth of her body. I looked up at her, startled. She met my gaze, and for a heartbeat, something flickered in her eyes. It was gone too fast for me to tell if it was pity or just twenty years of habit. “Go home,” she said, her voice dropping an octave. “Just be ready for tomorrow.” The security guards stepped forward. I didn’t move. I stood there, wrapped in her scent, waiting for her to say one real thing. Waiting for that flicker of light to return. It didn’t. Instead, the guards took my arms. They marched me toward the elevators. As the doors slid open, a young man was standing inside. He was looking at his phone, the screen glowing with a photo of him and Camilla kissing. As we passed each other, he gave me a curious, fleeting glance. “Cami!” I heard him shout from behind me. He ran into the room and swept her into a hug. She hugged him back. She laughed—a genuine, bright sound I hadn’t heard in years. The elevator doors closed. I couldn’t see them anymore. I could only see my own reflection in the polished steel. Face streaked with tears. Pathetic. The jacket on my shoulders was warm, but I couldn’t stop shivering. I walked out of the restaurant into a downpour. A guard tried to hold an umbrella over me, but I shoved it away. The rain hit me with bone-chilling force. I didn’t want to hide from it. I wanted to wake up. I wanted to wash away twenty years of devotion. By the time I got back to the estate, I was soaked to the bone. I pulled her jacket off and collapsed onto the bed. I was so cold. My brain felt numb. Eventually, the world turned grey, and my eyelids grew heavy. When I woke, the world was spinning. My skin felt like it was on fire. My head throbbed as if it were being split by an axe. I touched my forehead. Burning. A fever. Fever dreams began to bleed into reality. The day I was seven. My father was gone, and I had been brought to the house. Camilla, three years older, stood at the door. She looked like a princess in a storybook. She reached out her hand. “Don’t be scared,” she whispered. “I’m here.” The night I turned eighteen. She had bought a cake in secret. Just the two of us. She lit the candles and said, “Make a wish.” I asked, “What should I wish for?” She looked at me, her voice steady and sure. “Wish that we’re always together.” Then, the dream curdled. I saw my father in a pool of blood. The car had been barreling toward Camilla, and he had shoved her out of the way. He couldn’t save himself. She had knelt in the street, her hands stained red. I had run to him, clutching his body. His last words to me: “Emmett, take care of yourself.” I was crying in my sleep. The tears were drying almost instantly against my feverish skin. I wanted Camilla. I only wanted her. I wanted to hear her say “I’m here” one last time. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I fumbled for it, my vision blurred. I pressed answer. It wasn’t her voice. It was a man’s. Heavy, rhythmic breathing. I gripped the phone, tears soaking into the pillow. The line went quiet for a second. Then Camilla’s voice came through, laced with a post-coital laziness and a hint of a laugh. “Oh, sorry. Wrong button.” Click. I stared at the ceiling as the room tilted. My stomach surged. I tried to sit up, tried to get to the bathroom, but I didn’t make it. I vomited over the side of the bed. Since I hadn’t eaten, it was just bitter bile and tears. I collapsed back, shaking. The world was a whirlwind of my father’s dying face and the sound of that man’s breath. I retched again, my body cramping with the effort. I closed my eyes and let the darkness take me. When I woke up again, I was in a hospital bed. The fever had broken, but my body felt like lead. Camilla was there. She was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, looking like she’d been there all morning. I shifted slightly. She opened her eyes. For a second, she looked dazed, as if she’d forgotten everything that happened at the bistro. Then she stood up and touched my forehead. Her palm was shockingly cold. “The fever is down,” she said, her voice raspy. I tried to speak, but my throat felt like I’d swallowed glass. She looked into my eyes. “Why didn’t you call the doctor?” “…” “Why didn’t you call me?” “…” “Emmett, do you have any idea how high your temperature was?” When I didn’t answer, she sighed. “The engagement party is canceled. Happy now?” I blinked. “I…” “Forget it.” She tucked the blanket around me. “Just stop making my life difficult.” The door burst open. “Cami! Who the hell is this?” It was the boy from the elevator. Tyler. “Tyler, what are you doing here?” “A buddy of mine works here! If he hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have known you were keeping a secret boyfriend on the side!” Tyler’s voice was high, piercing. It made my head throb. He rushed over, pointing a finger at my face. “You pathetic loser. Didn’t your parents teach you anything? You don’t steal other people’s girlfriends!” Before anyone could react, his hand flew out. Slap. My head snapped to the side. A searing, white-hot pain radiated across my cheek. My ears rang. No parents. He said I had no parents to teach me. The image of my father in the street flashed before my eyes. The world started to go black. I heard myself gasping. Shallow, desperate lunges for air. My heart was a frantic bird hitting the walls of its cage. “Tyler!” Camilla’s voice sounded miles away. “Are you insane?” “Me? He’s the one trying to take my girl!” “He’s sick in a hospital bed, you idiot!” “So? Anyone can play the victim!” The voices faded into a dull hum. Before I lost consciousness, I felt a hand on my cheek. Light. Terrified. A cold finger brushed the place where I’d been struck. When I woke again, the room was empty. Camilla was gone. The sun was gone. Outside, the sky was a bruised grey. I heard voices at the door—nurses talking in the hall. “The guy in 402?” “Yeah, that’s him.” “I heard he’s trying to trap that tech heiress? Using his dead dad as leverage?” “More than that. Apparently, his dad died saving her, and now the son thinks he’s entitled to her hand in marriage. Talk about predatory.” “Shameless. Using a dead man to guilt-trip a woman into a wedding.” I lay there, paralyzed. Tyler had posted a video. I fumbled for my phone and found the thread. Millions of views. He was on camera, eyes red, looking like the victim of a grand conspiracy. “His father saved my girlfriend once, and we’ve always been grateful,” he sobbed. “But he’s using that debt to blackmail her. He’s forcing her to marry him. She’s too kind-hearted to say no. He’s a parasite.” The comments were a bloodbath. “This guy is disgusting.” “His father is probably rolling in his grave.” “Dox him. Make sure he can never show his face again.” They found my name. Emmett Vance. They found the old police reports of my father’s accident. “Single father, one kid… I bet the dad planned the whole thing. A ‘heroic’ suicide to get his kid into a rich family.” “Like father, like son. Con artists.” I set the phone down. No parents to teach me. He was right. My father was dead. But my father didn’t save her for a reward. His last words weren’t “Make her pay.” They were “Take care of yourself.” It was Camilla’s mother who insisted I stay. It was the family who insisted on the debt. Not him. My father was a good man. The door was kicked open. A woman in a nurse’s uniform rushed in, holding her phone up. “Here he is, guys! Live!” “Emmett Vance! The blackmailer!” “Tell the truth—was your dad’s ‘accident’ just a failed insurance scam?” The comments on her screen were scrolling so fast I couldn’t read them. I only had one thought: Find Camilla. Make her tell them it’s not true. Make her tell them it was an accident. If she said it, I could leave. I could disappear forever. I just needed my father’s name to be clean. I ripped the IV out of my hand. Blood bubbled up, but I didn’t feel it. I ran out of the room. “Hey! Stop him!” I didn’t stop. The hallway was an endless stretch of white. My bare feet hit the cold linoleum. I had to find her. I burst through the lobby, past the screaming nurse, and out into the street. I didn’t know where she was, but I had to look. The hospital lights were blinding. I leaned against a wall, my feet bleeding on the pavement. Wait for me, Dad. I’m going to fix this. I saw the light turn green. I saw the flash of a car. I didn’t see anything else. CRACK. My body went airborne, then hit the asphalt with a sickening thud.

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In the elite circles of Manhattan, my jealousy was legendary. It was a running joke among our friends—if my fiancé, Brooks, went more than two hours without a text or a kiss, I’d make his life a living hell for the rest of the night. I leaned into the persona of the high-maintenance heiress because it felt safer than admitting I was terrified of losing him. But a single alumni gala shattered that illusion. I was at Brooks’s side, playing the part of the devoted partner, when I discovered the truth: his brother’s widow, Diana, wasn’t just family. She was his first love. The one who got away. The ghost that haunted the halls of his heart. During dinner, a classmate had too much martinis and let slip a cruel comment about Diana being a “black widow,” implying she’d climbed her way into the family only to outlive her husband. The reaction was instantaneous. Brooks, usually the picture of Ivy League composure, slammed his fist onto the table so hard the crystal rattled. He didn’t just defend her; he looked ready to burn the room down for her. I felt the blood drain from my face. My voice was a low, frozen blade. “Brooks. That’s enough. Sit down.” He didn’t look at me with guilt. He looked at me with pure, unadulterated loathing. He pointed a finger at my face, his voice thick with bourbon and rage, calling me “suffocating,” “possessive,” and “petty.” Diana, ever the martyr, stepped in with a soft, practiced grace. She placed a hand on my arm—a touch that felt like a snake’s belly—and whispered, “Margot, honey, he’s just had too much to drink. Don’t take it out on him.” I forced myself to stay silent, the humiliation burning in my throat like acid. Later, the group started a drunken game of “Never Have I Ever.” When it was Diana’s turn, she didn’t look at the crowd. She looked directly at me, her eyes shimmering with a predatory triumph. She looked at Brooks and said, slowly, “Never have I ever… had you kiss my feet.” … 1 The penthouse suite went graveyard silent. Every head turned, eyes darting between the three of us. The air felt heavy, charged with the kind of scandal that ruins reputations. The alcohol seemed to vanish from Brooks’s system in a heartbeat. His face went pale, then a mottled, guilty red. He looked at me, and for the first time in three years, I didn’t see my fiancé. I saw a stranger who had been playing a role. I sat perfectly still. My hands were blocks of ice in my lap. Then, Diana let out a forced, melodic laugh, waving her hand dismissively. “Oh, stop! Everyone looks so serious. It was a joke, guys. A total joke.” Brooks jumped on it like a lifeline. “Right. Yeah. She’s just messing around. Margot, don’t take it seriously.” He reached out to take my hand, his palm sweaty. Before he could make contact, I jerked my arm back. The sound of my palm connecting with his cheek was like a gunshot in the small room. Silence again. Deeper this time. “Brooks,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Do you think that joke was funny?” Diana’s “sweet” facade cracked instantly. Seeing Brooks holding his face, she stepped in front of him like a shield, her voice rising in a sharp, protective screech. “What is wrong with you? How dare you hit him?” She turned to him, her fingers fluttering over his cheek with a tenderness she had never shown her late husband. “Brooks, are you okay? Did she hurt you?” I let out a short, jagged laugh. It sounded cold, even to me. “Diana, who exactly do you think you are in this equation? The grieving widow? The ex-girlfriend? Or just the help?” Diana stiffened, her jaw setting. “I am his family! And as his sister-in-law, I won’t stand by while you treat him like your personal punching bag because you’re too insecure to handle a joke.” I smiled. It wasn’t a happy expression. Brooks, emboldened by her defense, found his voice again. His brow furrowed with deep resentment. “Enough, Margot. If you apologize right now—humbly—I’ll forget this happened. I’ll give you one chance to fix this.” I looked up at him, my eyes tracing the features I used to love. “Apologize? Not in this lifetime.” Diana scoffed, loud and theatrical. “She’s so dramatic. Honestly, Brooks, I see it now. She’s too volatile for someone like you. She doesn’t understand our world. You deserve someone who actually supports you, not someone who suffocates you.” Brooks didn’t look away from me. “I’m serious, Margot. Apologize, and we go back to the way things were.” I stared him down, the last threads of my affection snapping. “I said no.” “You have the heart of a flea,” Diana hissed. “You can’t even take a little humor.” “Oh, you like humor?” I pulled my phone from my clutch. My voice was steady, projecting to every person in that room. “Let’s see if this lands.” I hit a speed dial. The phone rang once. “Uncle Silas,” I said, my voice echoing. “I’m calling off the wedding with Brooks.” I didn’t wait for a reply from the billionaire patriarch on the other end. “Tell my father the merger is off. I’m done with the junior varsity. If I’m going to be part of this family, I’d rather be with a man who actually knows how to lead. I’m coming to see you.” The room was so quiet you could hear the air conditioning hum. Brooks’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. He lunged forward, grabbing my wrist. For the first time, I heard real, jagged panic in his voice. “You’ve lost your mind! You can’t say that to him! Stop this ‘joke’ right now!” I peeled his fingers off me one by one. I tilted my head, a flash of something dark and playful in my eyes, masking the absolute hollowed-out cavern in my chest. “A joke, Brooks? I thought you loved jokes.” “What’s the matter?” I whispered. “Isn’t it funny anymore?” 2 I hung up and walked out. I didn’t look back at the room full of socialites whose jaws were practically on the floor. Brooks tried to follow me to the elevator, but one look from me—cold enough to freeze the blood in his veins—made him stumble back. Ten minutes later, a black Bentley Mulsanne pulled up to the curb of the club. Silas stood by the open door. He was in a charcoal overcoat, tall, imposing, with eyes like flint. He was the man Brooks spent his life trying to impress and failing. He didn’t say a word. He just gestured to the seat. “Get in.” As the door closed, I saw Brooks through the tinted glass. He was standing on the sidewalk, looking smaller than I’d ever seen him. He looked terrified. In the car, I didn’t explain, and Silas didn’t ask. He simply dropped me at my penthouse. I thanked him and retreated into my sanctuary. The rest of the night, my phone was a graveyard of Brooks’s frantic texts and voicemails. I blocked his number before the sun came up. The next morning, I needed air. I drove out to a quiet, secluded stone chapel in the countryside—a place my mother used to take me. I needed to breathe. But as I walked through the iron gates, the morning mist clinging to the grass, I saw the two people I wanted to see least in this world. Brooks was there, draped in a black cashmere coat, standing by a memorial plaque. He was holding Diana. His hand was resting on the small of her back, his other hand gently tucking a stray hair behind her ear. He looked at her with a raw, aching tenderness that I had spent three years begging for. Diana leaned into his shoulder, her smile soft and victorious. To any passerby, they looked like a grieving couple finding solace in each other. They looked… right. Brooks turned and caught my eye. He froze. He let go of Diana so fast she almost stumbled. He scrambled toward me, his voice a frantic mess. “Margot, wait! It’s not what it looks like. I’m just helping her pay respects to my brother. It’s a family thing, I swear.” I looked at him and felt… nothing. No spark of anger, no flare of jealousy. Just a vast, empty boredom. I walked past him toward the small rectory office. I wasn’t there to fight. I sat down in the quiet room, waiting for the attendant, but Diana burst in behind me. She walked to the window, looking out at the foggy valley, and turned to me with a smile that was sharp as a razor. “You really don’t get it, do you?” she whispered. Before I could process her words, she lunged forward, grabbed my wrist with surprising strength, and threw herself toward the open window ledge. “Help!” Her scream tore through the silence of the chapel grounds. I stood there, paralyzed. My brain went white. Brooks was up the stairs in seconds. He burst into the room and saw me standing by the window, and Diana sprawled on the grass a story below, wailing in pain. He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t look for evidence. He just turned to me, his face contorted with a monstrous rage. “Did you push her?!” I felt a chill settle in my bones. “No, Brooks. I didn’t touch her.” “Liar!” His shout echoed off the stone walls. “How could you be so vicious? She’s already lost everything, and you still can’t let her be! I knew you were spoiled, Margot, but I didn’t know you were a monster.” The noise drew a small crowd of visitors and staff. They stood at the door, whispering, pointing. “She looks so sweet, but she’s a psycho.” “She pushed a widow? That’s low.” “Someone call the police.” The accusations felt like needles under my skin. I stood in the center of the room, completely alone. I looked Brooks in the eye, my voice trembling but clear. “Brooks, for the last time. I didn’t do it.” He wouldn’t even look at me. “Give it up, Margot. I’m done with your games.” In that moment, it felt like someone had scooped out a piece of my soul. It wasn’t just that he didn’t believe me—it was that he wanted me to be the villain. It made his betrayal of me easier to justify. To him, I had always been the “difficult” one, the “jealous” one. And now, I was the “evil” one. 3 I looked at him, and I stopped trying. “Brooks,” I asked, “do you really believe I’m capable of this?” He spat the words out. “The evidence is right there. How could I believe anything else?” I started to laugh. It wasn’t a sane sound. “Fine.” Before he could react, I stepped forward and cracked a backhand across his face. It was harder than the first one. The room gasped. Brooks stumbled back, clutching his jaw, staring at me in shock. I wiped a stray tear from my cheek, my eyes turning to flint. “That was for being blind.” “That was for being a coward.” “And that was for never actually knowing who I was.” The crowd murmured. I shoved past him. “You think I pushed her? Fine. Call the cops. Check the security. This is a historic site—there are cameras in the eaves of the roof and the hallway. Check the angles, Brooks.” I paused at the door, looking down at Diana, who was being tended to by a medic. She looked pale, but her eyes met mine for a split second, and the fear in them was delicious. “You love protecting her so much?” I said to Brooks. “Let’s see how you protect her when the footage shows she jumped.” Brooks’s face shifted. He looked at Diana, then at the camera dome in the corner of the ceiling. He wasn’t stupid. The realization began to sink in. I didn’t wait for his epiphany. I pulled out my phone and called my family’s attorney. “Arthur, get to the countryside chapel. I’m filing charges. Slander against Brooks, and attempted fraud and malicious prosecution against Diana.” I walked down the hill and didn’t look back. The next day, the legal papers were served. I was officially done. I wanted an apology and a public retraction. Instead, Brooks showed up at my door. He didn’t look sorry; he looked annoyed. “Drop the suit, Margot. Let’s just move on. I’ll forget about the chapel if you forget about the lawyer.” I looked at him through the crack in the door. “No.” His expression darkened. His voice dropped to a threatening silk. “Don’t push me, Margot. You don’t want to see what happens when I stop being ‘nice.’” I ignored him. I thought it was just the bluster of a rich boy losing his grip. I was wrong. The next morning, the internet exploded. Dozens of “leaked” photos of me—explicit, compromising, and horrifyingly realistic—began circulating on every social media platform. The headlines were brutal: [The Heiress’s Secret Life] [Brooks’s Ex-Fiancée Caught in Scandal] [No Wonder He Left Her: The Real Margot] They were deepfakes. AI-generated filth. But they were good enough to pass at a glance. I sat on my floor, my phone shaking in my hands. The shame was physical, a weight crushing my chest. I hadn’t done any of it, but in the court of public opinion, I was already convicted. Within hours, my family’s stock began to dip. Partners were calling to “evaluate” our contracts. My father called me, screaming, his voice distorted by rage. “Fix this, Margot! The whole city is laughing at us! Go back to Brooks, marry him, do whatever it takes to bury this!” “I won’t marry him, Dad,” I whispered. “You don’t have a choice!” he roared. I felt the walls closing in. I reached out to a contact in tech. It took two hours to trace the source. The photos had been uploaded from a shell company linked directly to Brooks’s private office. My blood turned to ice. I had thought he was weak, or biased, or confused. I hadn’t realized he was malicious. To protect Diana and force me into submission, he was willing to incinerate my life. I dialed his number. He picked up on the first ring. “The photos, Brooks,” I said, my voice thick with unshed tears. “That was you.” There was a long silence. Then, his voice came through—cold, transactional, and devoid of any humanity. “It was me.” “Why?” I choked out. “Because you wouldn’t listen,” he said. “Drop the charges against Diana. Drop the suit against me. Do it now, and I’ll have the ‘hacker’ remove the images. Otherwise… I have a lot more where those came from.” I was backed into a corner. My family, my reputation, my soul—it was all on the line. “Fine,” I rasped. “I’ll drop it.” “Good girl,” he said, his tone shifting to something possessive and sickening. “But that’s not enough. You want the photos gone? You come to me. Personally.” He gave me a hotel room number. “Come tonight. Only then do the photos disappear.” 4 I stood outside the hotel suite, the key card heavy in my hand. I had to be here. For my father. For the company. For the slim hope of getting my dignity back. I pushed the door open, but Brooks wasn’t there. Diana was. She was lounging on the sofa, a glass of vintage wine in her hand. Her eyes were like a predator’s. “You finally made it.” “Where is he?” I demanded. “He’ll be here,” she said, standing up and circling me. “I thought marrying his brother would be my golden ticket, but the idiot had to go and die early. So, I used what I had. Brooks. He’s always been obsessed with me. I just had to remind him.” She leaned in close, her breath smelling of grapes and malice. “You were never going to win. The seat at the head of the table? It’s always been mine.” I tried to back away, but she grabbed my hand. In a blur of movement, she pressed a paring knife into my palm. “What are you—” Before I could finish, she grabbed my wrist and plunged the blade into her own side. “AHHHHH!” Blood bloomed across her white dress. The door burst open. Brooks charged in, his timing too perfect to be an accident. He saw me holding the knife. He saw Diana slumped on the floor, bleeding. “Help!” she gasped, pointing a trembling finger at me. “She tried to kill me!” I dropped the knife, my hands stained red. “Brooks, no… she did it herself! She grabbed me!” Brooks’s face was a mask of pure, murderous hatred. He didn’t look at the angle of the wound or the way Diana was smirking behind her tears. “I saw you,” he hissed. “I saw it with my own eyes.” My heart broke. Not for him, but for the girl I used to be, who thought this man was her harbor. “Call the police!” Diana wailed. Brooks looked at me, then at the guards he’d brought with him. “Don’t call the cops yet. Bind her.” Two men grabbed me. They tied my wrists to the bedpost, the cord biting into my skin. I was a prisoner in a five-star suite. Brooks walked over, holding his phone up. He looked at me with a twisted, triumphant smile. “You like being a star, Margot? How about we go live? Let the world see the ‘real’ you in this state?” He reached for my clothes. I screamed, I pleaded, I sobbed. I had never felt more humiliated, more discarded, more like an object. He laughed, his finger hovering over the screen. I closed my eyes, praying for the world to end. Then, the door didn’t just open. It exploded off its hinges. A shadow fell over the room. Cold, towering, and radiating a quiet, lethal authority. Silas.

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The cold April rain lashed against the headstone, soaking through my coat. I stood there, clutching a bouquet of white lilies, waiting for Samuel. He was supposed to meet me here, like he had every year for the past five. But his Maybach was already parked by the cemetery gates, the engine idling low. As I approached, I noticed the rear window was cracked open just a hair. A soft, rhythmic sound drifted out—a sound that made my blood turn to ice in my veins. Through the tinted glass, I saw them. Two silhouettes, tangled and desperate. Samuel’s voice, low and gravelly, cut through the patter of the rain. It held a tenderness he hadn’t shown me once in our five years of marriage. “Izzy, Nancy has been punished enough.” My heart stopped. “She doesn’t dare look at what’s yours anymore,” he continued, his voice breathless. “Just give me a little more time. I’m waiting for the right moment to bring you back, to restore your name. I think… I think she’s finally learned her lesson.” The lilies slipped from my numb fingers. The white petals fell into the mud, crushed and soiled, looking exactly like my life: a beautiful thing discarded in the dirt. The kidnapping five years ago—the one where my sister, Isabelle, supposedly died saving me—was a lie. It was a play they’d written together. I had married Samuel wearing a face that looked like a ghost of hers, thinking he was my anchor in a sea of guilt. I thought our marriage was a mutual healing. Instead, it was a meticulously designed cage. A five-year sentence for a crime I never committed. Every night I spent kneeling in front of Isabelle’s portrait in our hallway, sobbing in repentance… every time Samuel had gently applied ointment to my bruised knees, looking so pained… it was all a joke. He wasn’t mourning with me. He was savoring my ruin. “Nancy, don’t torture yourself. Izzy wouldn’t want this.” “Five years of mourning, Nancy. After this, we’ll finally start our real life together.” Those words, which I once thought were my salvation, were nothing but poison coated in sugar. My sister’s “sacrifice” wasn’t my second chance. It was the beginning of my descent into hell. 1 The windows were fogged with heat, but they couldn’t hide the truth. The man inside was my husband of five years. The woman straddling him, her skin flushed, her movements frantic… was my sister. The sister who had been buried in an empty casket for half a decade. “Next month,” Samuel whispered, “there’s going to be a wedding like this city has never seen. I’m going to make you the Mrs. Montgomery you were always meant to be.” A wedding. The words felt like a physical blow to my chest. Five years ago, our wedding had been a hollow, somber affair. No photos, no celebration, just a quick trip to the courthouse because “it wouldn’t be right to celebrate while we’re mourning Izzy.” Samuel had promised me that once the five years of mourning were up, he’d give me the world. It was all a script. Samuel reached into the glove box and pulled out a manila envelope. He handed it to her. “Look, Izzy. I’ve had the divorce papers ready for months. The second you’re ready to step back into the light, she’s out. With nothing.” “Good,” Isabelle purred, leaning down to kiss him. Samuel pulled her closer, his voice thick with obsession. “It’s always been you, Izzy. These five years… it was just a performance. A little theater to make her pay for even thinking she could have what belongs to you.” He pulled a velvet box from his pocket. Inside was a diamond that caught the gray light of the rain, brilliant and mocking. I recognized the design. I’d found the sketches in his office months ago. I had been stupid enough to think it was a fifth-anniversary gift for me. Now, I watched him slide it onto Isabelle’s finger with a reverence he had never shown me. The sounds from the car grew louder, more uninhibited. I thought about the thousands of hours I’d spent in that dark hallway, staring at her photo until my eyes burned. Every time my knees hit the floor, Samuel would find me. He would lift me up with such feigned gentleness. “Nancy, stop. Izzy wouldn’t want to see you like this.” He wasn’t comforting me. He was admiring the craftsmanship of my misery. I wanted to scream, to tear the door open, but the damp cold of the cemetery had settled into my bones. My joints, ruined by years of forced penance on cold marble, throbbed with a dull, agonizing ache. I was frozen, a spectator to my own execution. I waited until the car grew still. I watched him help her dress, his movements as domestic as a husband’s. A minute later, my phone buzzed in my pocket. 2 A text from Samuel. “Nancy, the roads are slick. Drive carefully. Don’t forget the lilies—they were Izzy’s favorite. It’s been five years, honey. After today, the vigil is over. I’ve asked the cook to make that pot roast you like. See you at home.” The hypocrisy was a blade, carving out the last of my heart. I fled. I didn’t know where I was going, my feet splashing through puddles, my vision blurred by a cocktail of rain and tears. My phone lit up again. It wasn’t a text this time. It was an anonymous link to a cloud drive. My thumb hovered over the screen. I clicked. The photos hit me like a succession of stabs. The first one was from five years ago. Samuel and Isabelle, wrapped in each other’s arms at JFK, glowing with the excitement of a getaway. My memory fractured. Five years ago, I had been hopelessly in love with Samuel, and I thought he felt the same. Then, overnight, he went cold. He started dating Isabelle. I was devastated but silent. Then, I found the medical records. Isabelle had forged a history of burn treatments. She had stolen the credit for pulling Samuel out of that warehouse fire ten years ago—a fire where I was the one who nearly died saving him. I had the evidence. I was on my way to tell him the truth when I was snatched off the street. When I woke up, I was told the kidnappers had killed Isabelle. Because of me. Because I was the “target.” Now, looking at the photos, the truth was laid bare. The kidnapping was her exit strategy. A way to fake her death, pin the guilt on me, and keep me under Samuel’s thumb as a “living apology” while she lived a secret, pampered life on his dime. I scrolled through the album. A kiss under the Eiffel Tower. Sun-drenched smiles on a yacht in the Mediterranean. Tangled limbs in a chalet in the Swiss Alps. Every night I had spent trembling with nightmares and guilt, they were halfway across the world, celebrating my living death. The last photo was a family portrait. Samuel, Isabelle, and my parents. All of them, gathered around a dinner table, laughing. Radiating happiness. The realization was a physical nausea. My parents had spent five years calling me a murderer. They had slapped me, shamed me, and forced me to my knees to “atone” for the loss of their golden daughter. They knew. They all knew. They had collectively pushed me into a grave so they could play house with Isabelle. I hailed a cab, my body moving on autopilot. When I reached my parents’ house in the suburbs, my mother opened the door. She took one look at my drenched, bedraggled state and sighed with irritation. “Look at you. People will think we mistreat you. Get inside.” I stared at her, my voice a jagged shard of glass. “Is Isabelle alive, Mom?” Her face went bone-white for a split second before hardening into a mask of indignation. “What kind of sick nonsense is that? Your sister has been gone for five years, Nancy. Don’t start.” I gritted my teeth. “I saw them. At the cemetery. In the car. I saw her and Samuel.” “So what if you did?” she snapped, the mask finally dropping. Her voice was sharp, devoid of any maternal warmth. “You think you have a right to be upset? If it weren’t for your selfishness, Izzy wouldn’t have had to hide for five years. You owe her everything!” I looked at her, truly seeing her for the first time. “I gave her everything. My clothes, my toys, your love—I stepped back so she could have it all. But Samuel? He was the one thing that was mine. He loved me first!” My mother let out a cold, mocking laugh. 3 “You think Samuel is an idiot?” she sneered. “You think a man like him wouldn’t notice Izzy’s little games? He knew, Nancy. He chose her.” The world turned to ice. I dragged my numb body back to the mansion I called home. In the center of the grand foyer hung the massive black-and-white portrait of Isabelle. She looked so innocent, so ethereal. Memories I’d suppressed began to bubble to the surface. Three years ago, when the depression became a physical weight I couldn’t carry, I had locked myself in the bathroom and shattered a glass. I’d opened my wrists, watching the red clouds bloom in the bathwater. Samuel had kicked the door in. He’d looked terrified. He’d held my wrists, screaming for an ambulance, his eyes bloodshot. He stayed by my bed all night. After that, he’d come into my room in the small hours of the morning, gently changing my bandages while I pretended to sleep. I’d felt his fingertips trembling. I’d seen the shadow of pain in his eyes. I had convinced myself that if I just held on, if I just finished my penance, he would love me again. Like the boy who used to hold an umbrella over me in the rain when our parents punished us. The boy who spent his allowance on dolls for me when Isabelle broke mine. But it was all part of the game. The “care” was just a way to keep his toy from breaking before the play was over. The front door opened. Samuel walked in, shedding his wet coat. He walked over and draped his cashmere sweater over my shoulders. “Why are you sitting in the dark? Your hands are like ice.” He took my hands in his, rubbing them with a warmth that felt like a mockery. I looked him straight in the eyes. “Samuel, you promised we’d have a real wedding next month. Our five years are up.” His frame stiffened almost imperceptibly. “Work is insane right now, Nancy. A huge merger. We have to push it back.” The tears finally came, hot and stinging. My phone began to vibrate violently. It was my mother. I answered. “What?” “Nancy, you listen to me,” she hissed. “You go to Samuel right now and tell him you want a divorce. Do it quietly.” “Why?” I whispered. “Why are you all doing this to me?” “Because you owe her! You will never pay back what you took from Izzy. If you make a scene, your father and I are done with you. You’ll be dead to us. Do you hear me?” She hung up. I closed my eyes, and a memory from our wedding night flashed behind my lids. 4 Samuel had been drunk. He’d looked at me with an expression I couldn’t read and whispered, “If only it had been you that day.” I hadn’t understood then. I thought he meant he wished I was the one who had ‘died’ so he wouldn’t have to live with the guilt. Now I realized he knew the truth all along. He knew I was the one who saved him ten years ago, but he still chose Isabelle’s polished lie over my messy truth. He chose to nail me to a cross of shame for five years just because it suited his narrative. I opened my eyes to confront him, but his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and without a single word of explanation, he turned and walked out the door. I didn’t need to see the caller ID. I knew it was her. I looked at the glass of milk he’d left on the side table. I felt a wave of nausea so violent I had to steady myself. Every “kind” gesture, every soft word from the last five years was a maggot crawling under my skin. I took the milk and poured it down the drain. It swirled away, white and useless. Just like my love for him. I went to my safe and pulled out an old, cracked burner phone. On it was a single image I’d saved from a decade ago: a grainy still from a security camera at the warehouse fire. It was blurry, but clear enough to show me—not Isabelle—dragging Samuel’s unconscious body through the flames. I sent the photo to Isabelle. “Meet me at the bluffs. Let’s finish this.” I wasn’t naive. I knew she wouldn’t come to talk. Women like Isabelle only know how to bury their secrets deeper. I was counting on it. I needed her to move. On the way to the coast, a black van swerved in front of my car. Men piled out. A sharp pain in the back of my neck, and the world went black. When I woke up, I was on the edge of the cliffs. The wind was howling, smelling of salt and impending rain. My wrists were raw, bound tight with coarse hemp rope. Isabelle stood over me, a cruel, beautiful smile on her lips. “Oh, little sister. You always were so dramatic. If you wanted a reunion, you should have just asked.” Behind her, three men held knives, their faces masked. Isabelle took a second rope and began binding herself—loosely. Then, she pulled out her phone and started a video call with Samuel. The second he picked up, she transformed. She was a sobbing, terrified victim. “Samuel! Help us! They have me and Nancy! Please!” It took less than twenty minutes for Samuel to roar onto the scene. When he saw us both balanced on the jagged edge of the cliff, he looked like a man possessed. “Let them go! I’ll give you whatever you want! Just name the price!” The lead kidnapper laughed. “We don’t want money, Mr. Montgomery. We want a choice. Two women, one rope. You can only save one.” The wind gusted. “Samuel! I’m so scared!” Isabelle shrieked. As the rope holding us both began to fray against the rock, Samuel lunged forward. For a split second, he reached for me. “Samuel!” Isabelle’s scream turned feral. “Have you forgotten? Have you forgotten who walked through the fire for you ten years ago? I’m carrying your child, Samuel!” The words hit him like a lightning strike. I saw the moment his resolve broke. I saw the calculated, cold cruelty return to his eyes. He let go of my rope. He turned his back on me and threw his entire weight toward Isabelle. The sensation of falling—the weightlessness—was almost peaceful. I looked up at him as I slipped into the abyss. I didn’t scream. I smiled. “Samuel,” I called out, my voice carrying over the wind. “You really are a pathetic, gullible fool.” I saw him freeze. I saw his eyes drop to my bared arm, where the jagged, silver scars of the warehouse fire were finally visible in the moonlight—scars Isabelle didn’t have. His scream of my name was the last thing I heard before I hit the dark water below.

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